


The White Pallax

by OmniAni



Series: The Spider and The Temptress [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, It's Stressful, Kidnapping, Kinda, Love, M/M, Minor Violence, some whump!peter, spiderman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 18:39:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 29,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniAni/pseuds/OmniAni
Summary: You never thought you would end up here, in America. You never thought you would fall in love with someone so cute. You never thought you would have to see someone else die. You never thought you could be so powerful and yet so powerless.Of all the people in the world, why did you have to be related to Tony Stark?





	1. La Chica Nue- Sorry I'm New

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is my first work on this site but it's one of my favorites I've ever written! Since it's completed it'll just all be out there soon. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (Technically I use she/her pronouns but please feel free to change those in your head! Everyone deserves to be Peter Parker's lover)

This sucks. 

This sucks, this sucks, this sucks. 

Frustrated, you throw your most recent invention at the wall. Metal shards clatter to the ground. It's the fourth prototype for something so simple. Just a little communication device. That never fucking works. You bang your head against the table. Something in your mind has to work. 

"¡Venga, funcione!" You groan.  Alas, nothing surfaces. Nothing except a headache. 

"Hey kiddo," a voice snaps you from your self loathing. You swivel around in your leather rolling chair. Standing in the doorway is an older man, raven hair peppered with gray. Most people know him as the famed Tony Stark. You know him as obnoxious Uncle Tony. "How's the inventing going?"

"Fantastic," you drawl. Annoyance tingles in your veins. "Can't you tell?" 

Tony chuckles. "Ah, love the sarcasm." 

"Not surprised. I did get it from you," You point out. Finished talking with him, you swivel back towards your desk. It's cluttered. Papers full of scribbles that are meant to be notes litter the table, along with scraps of metal and wires. Just staring at it worsens the pounding in your head. Like someone decided to turn your brain into a maraca and bring it to a quinceañera. 

Tony grabs the back of your chair and spins you back around. You glare up at him. "Yeah, sorry time for school." 

"No." 

He rolls his eyes. "We're not having this discussion again." 

"We'll have this discussion as much as I want."

"Y/N. You've been putting off school for nearly two months now." Tony crosses his arms and taps his foot. "I only allowed that because you were adjusting to life here. But the window for enrollment is almost closed. You're going." 

You want to argue. More than anything, you do. But you know you'll inevitably lose. With a resigned sigh, you stand. "Fine. Fine. Whatever." 

Tony smiles. "Ah good. I love it when we're in agreement." 

You shove past him, being sure to hit your shoulder against him. How long have you been staying here? Only a few months. Since May. You'd met Tony a few times when you were younger. Thought he was cool then. Now that he's your legal guardian, you find him much less interesting. But maybe it's just because you miss your dad. 

He died a while ago. It still doesn't feel real. Sometimes you can trick yourself into thinking that you're just on a study trip in Queens and your dad is anxiously awaiting your return home in Argentina. But then you turn on your phone and look at your background. It's fourteen year old you and your dad smiling like idiots in front of the strange stone heads on Easter Island. And every time you stare at it, tears sting your eyes. Because you know he is gone. That trip was the best you took together. The last. 

Even now, you stare at it. That familiar prickling feeling is back. Hot tears trail down your face. You sniffle and wipe your nose. At least you're alone in the back seat. For a minute, you thought Tony was going to ride with you to your first day of school. But he just told Happy to take you. Honestly, you're not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. For now, it's the former. 

The car rolls to a stop in front of a drab brick building. In large letters across the front of it, the words MIDTOWN HIGH SCHOOL only makes the building more lackluster. You throw your door open and step out onto the sidewalk. Happy informs you that he'll be picking you up as soon as school ends. You wave and trudge across the school's front lawn and in through the doors, just in time for first bell. Kids flood the halls, pushing each other for space as they race towards class. 

You ignore all of them and head for the principal's office. A man sits in a black chair at a long mahogany desk. A plaque sits on the neatly organized desk that reads Principal Morita. Without hardly acknowledging him, you plop down across from him. 

"You must be Y/N Stark, yes?" Morita inquires. 

"Bergara," You correct. "Y/N Bergara, if you could." 

Your full name is Stark Bergara. Up until you moved in with Tony, you preferred Stark. Here, it has a much different connotation. Better or worse, depending. 

Morita nods. "Of course. Y/N Bergara. You're very close to missing the window." 

"So I've heard." 

He smiles. "Are you ready for your first day?" 

You look down at your hands. Nausea twists your stomach around. Your legs bounces. Nervous energy buzzes through your veins. You hadn't realized you were so anxious about attending. Maybe that was part of why you hadn't wanted to go. Maybe it isn't just about your dad. 

"I'm nervous," you admit. "Very." 

"It's alright. Midtown has a really good atmosphere. I'm sure you'll love it." Morita turns to his computer and types for a minute. Then a piece of paper spews out from the printer in the corner of his office. He hands it to you. "Your schedule for the semester." 

You skim over it with disinterest. Standard boring classes. Pre-calc. Physics. AP Literature, etc. You snort when your eyes roll over Spanish. Tony must not have requested you be put in a different language. Truthfully, you don't care. An easy class to pass. More of those, the merrier. 

"Would you like someone to show you around?" The principal asks. 

After a moment of consideration, you shake your head. "I think I'll manage. Thanks." 

You excuse yourself from the office and walk down the hallways. They're not any more exciting than the outside of the school. At least here there are posters hanging up, advertising school spirit and club meetings. So there's some color. 

After wandering around the school for a while, you finally decide you should catch the last half of first period. It's only Spanish anyway. It's not like you'll miss anything you won't know. You stop in front of the door, crinkling the schedule in your hands. Bundles of nerves knot in your stomach. Your mouth goes dry. 

Venga. You comfort yourself. You can do this. 

Heaving a great sigh, you open the door. All eyes turn to you. Panic plagues your mind and you can think of nothing more than turning around and running all the way home to the safety of your bedroom. But your legs propel themselves forward of their own accord and stop in front of the class. 

"¡Buenas dias!" The teacher greets you with a cheery smile. 

"Hola," You reply your voice so quiet you can barely hear it. "Soy la chica nu- er, I'm new." 

You correct yourself to poorly pronounced Spanish and then English. It's better that no one finds out you're fluent in Spanish. You need one familiar comfort in the chaos of newness that had been thrown at you over the past six months. A beat of silence falls over the classroom. Your heart pounds even louder as your eyes dart over your new classmates. Everyone's staring at you. You shift uncomfortably. 

"Care to introduce yourself?" The teacher asks politely. 

Truthfully, no. But you do anyway. Keeping your eyes glued to your feet, you mumble, "I'm Y/N Bergara. Hi."

No one responds. You're okay with that. 

"Alright, Y/N. Go ahead and take an empty seat. We'll sort everything out after class." 

You head towards the back of the classroom. The time it takes to get there is only about four seconds. But it feels like you're walking through a vat of quicksand that's actually made of molasses. When finally you sit down, you begin to relax. The teacher, who you later find out is named Señora Albright, rambles on about conjugations.

Bored, you turn your attention out the window. Rays of sunlight cut through the thick canopy of gray clouds. Dew glistens on the green grass. You wonder how long summer lasts in New York. It seems like forever. 

"Psst," a voice whispers behind you. "You're the new girl right?" 

Without turning your head, you murmur, "That is what I said, isn't it?" 

"Need any help getting around? I know everyone. I can get you friends in no time." 

Curious, you turn around. A kid with brown skin and dark eyes sits there with a smile on his face. You're sure it's meant to be friendly, but it just makes you feel uncomfortable. It reminds you of Maricio from your old school. He was a misogynistic asshole. 

"So?" He inquires. 

You shake your head. "No, I'm good. Thanks." 

You turn back around. The kid taps you on the shoulder and keeps insisting on showing you around. Irritation fills you from your core, and it takes all the self control you possess to refrain from snapping his finger. Thankfully, Señora steps in so you don't have to resort to that. 

"Flash, cállate." 

Immediately, the kids shuts up. Relief floods over you. And when the bell rings, you don't waste a moment to jump out of your seat and bolt for the door. Unfortunately, Flash lives up to his name. With ease he catches up to you and grabs your elbow. 

"C'mon, lemme show ya around," he pleads. "I'm just trying to be nice." 

You roll your eyes. "Piss off." 

He frowns and you yank your arm back. Before he can make any other advances, another kid steps in between. He makes conversation with Flash, allowing you to escape. All you hear him grunt is "Move out of the way, Penis." 

You risk a glance over your shoulder as you leave the room. "Penis" turns and looks back. A grin lights up his alluring brown eyes. It's not a perfect grin. A little goofy. Offsets his face. But there's something contagious about it. You can't help smiling back.


	2. Making Friends. And Also Enemies. Whatever.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have an embarrassing debacle but make some friends.

"Penis" catches up to you down the hall. "Sorry about Flash. He's pretty annoying, but mostly harmless." 

You don't say anything, just nod. After the burning of irritation faded away, the anxiety came back. You made it through one class. But you still have five more to go. And you don't know anyone. You don't know how to know anyone. Friendships were never your area of expertise. In truth, your dad was probably your best friend. Sometimes you thought it was weird. But he was always there for you no matter what. 

"So, I'm Peter," the kids introduces himself. "Y/N, right?" 

You nod again. 

"Nice to meet you! Where's your next class?" 

You hand him your schedule. You're not sure you're going the right way. You just didn't want to be rude and part ways with him. 

"Chemistry! I have that too! Do you mind if I walk you there?" He glances over at you. When you don't say anything, he speaks faster. You can tell he's getting a little nervous. "I mean if not, that's totally okay, I don't want you to feel weird or like overwhelmed by me or other people or anything-"

"Peter," you cut him off. "It's fine." 

Silence falls between you. Peter hands you back your schedule. Together, you just walk in silence. You can't tell if it's awkward or comfortable. For now, you're going with awkward. Which doesn't make you feel better. But you want it to be comfortable. He seems like a sweet guy. You're not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when you enter the classroom and he heads to his friend. 

After blocking the doorway for a moment, you work up the nerve to approach the teacher. He stares at you with disinterest. 

"Uh, hi." You clear your throat. "I'm new. Where should I sit?" 

He gestures lazily, not looking away from his computer screen. "Anywhere. With a partner." 

You turn back around and stare at the slowly filling room. Lab tables are set up instead of normal desks. Pretty much everyone has a partner already. Immediately you search for Peter, but find that he has one too. Sighing, you finally sit down next to a dark skinned girl reading a book. 

Half of you expects her to greet you. But she doesn't. Just keeps reading. When the bell rings, she glances over at you. For a minute you stare at each other, neither talking. She's pretty, you think. Quiet. That's about it. The both of you turn your attention back to yourselves. 

Partway through the class, the girl nudges you. Thankful for the distraction from whatever the teacher was droning on about, you turn to her. She holds up a notebook with a strangely good drawing of you with a lost look in your eyes. You tilt your head, not sure whether to be insulted or not. 

"I'm Michelle," she whispers, putting the notebook down. 

"Y/N," you reply. 

Seemingly satisfied, she turns back to her notebook, flipping to a new page. You chuckle quietly. A tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Michelle seems like exactly your type of person. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you catch Peter's eye. He smiles at you, and you smile back. His large friend waves. You smile a little bigger. 

Maybe this place won't be that bad.

Lunch is a bit awkward. You stand in line to get something called popcorn chicken. In Argentina you never had anything like that. America can be so strange sometimes. 

Once your tray is full of slightly appealing food, you stand in the middle of the cafeteria, alone. Searching for familiar faces is hard amongst the swarm of people. People shove by you, some annoyed, others giving you sympathetic smiles, but for the most part, not caring. Finally, you spot an empty table in the back.

The moment you turn to head for it, you run head on into that obnoxious kid Flash. You startle and drop your tray. Nearly all the contents splatter onto him. The commotion turns a few heads, though most take no notice. Still, your face flushes and your eyes widen. 

"Oh my god," you splutter, "I'm- I'm so sorry!"

For a moment, he seems just perplexed. As if wondering how something like this could happen to him. That confusion morphs to rage. And then he just fucking explodes. 

"How dare you!" He shouts. "This is a new shirt! And do you know how expensive these shoes are?!" 

Everyone gapes at the scene, now. Cheerful chatter dies down. Now it's just whispers and giggles. Your face flushes even more and you find you can't speak. Tears threaten to fall as your eyes water. You bite your lip. You will not cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone. 

"...pay for this, Bergara!" Flash finishes. You hadn't realized you'd droned him out. "You'll pay!" 

And then he storms off. Mortified, you can't move a muscle. Slowly, people turn their attention back to their friends. But you're still living in the most embarrassing moment of your life. You feel as though everyone is still staring, laughing at you, at your mistake.

Suddenly you're being pulled to the right. Irrational fear courses through your veins. Has Flash decided to get revenge so soon? You turn over your shoulder and find it's only Peter. He sits you down at a table across from Michelle and his other friend. 

"Thanks for the rescue," you breathe hardly aware you're even talking. 

"It was a bit late," Peter confessed. "But like I said earlier, Flash is annoying. Just ignore him."

You nod, unable to speak more. The nervous energy slowly fades and you no longer feel like you're walking halfway between worlds. 

"So," Peter says, "Y/N, this is Michelle and Ned. Michelle, Ned, Y/N." 

You wave. "Hi. Nice to meet you. And you again." 

Ned waves back enthusiastically. Michelle just smiles and takes a bite of her sandwich. 

"So where you from?" Ned asks. 

"Uh," you think for a moment. If you tell them the truth, will they rat you out and get you out of Spanish? You look at each of their faces and see nothing but trustworthy innocence. And you're probably just being paranoid anyway. "Uh yeah Argentina. Just moved here six months ago to my uncle's place."

"Whoa, Argentina?!" Ned exclaims. "That's so cool!"

"Why are you in Spanish then?" Peter inquires. You're sure it's in good heart but it feels like an attack. Again, you tell yourself to stop overreacting. 

"I just like the familiarity of it." 

Everyone nods in agreement. And that's that. Comfort takes over the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You let yourself relax. With these nerds, high school won't be so bad. 

\--

Exhaustion gnaws at your very being. By the time you get home, you're ready to collapse. Having gym as one of the last periods sucks. Not to mention how goddamn eventful your day was. Friends and enemies were made. 

But right now, you just can't care less. You toss your backpack on the ground, amidst everything else you leave so haphazardly around your room. Dancing through your piles of dirty laundy, you collapse onto your bed. Sleep doesn't come, but you don't mind. All you needed was some rest. 

After about an hour of staring blankly at the wall and reliving the day's events, you finally sit up and make use of yourself. Working up patience, you take vigil at your desk once more. And once more you try to finish your communication device. And once more, it fails.

Holding back a scream, you gently set it back down and instead jump on the bed and pull out your laptop. When you open it, it's just the same as you left it - pulled up on a document, with gibberish written. You erase it and start typing up words, that you hope have a magical fluidity. You've been working on this novel for months, and it's coming along nicely. It's the best thing you've written so far. And the saddest.

Tranquility wraps you like a gentle, warm blanket. As your fingers fly across the keyboard, you feel at home. In your element. Happy.

And then it's ruined. 

"Hey kiddo!" Tony barges into your room. You startle and yelp. 

"Joder, Tony!" You curse. "Don't you know how to knock?" 

"Language," he teases. 

You roll your eyes. "Fuck off." 

Tony only smiles and steps further into your room. "Whatcha working on?"

"Nothing." You try to close your laptop, but Tony still sees. His smile wavers. He sits down on the bed beside you. 

"I miss him too," he says after a moment. You know he means your dad, his brother. Your book circles around your feelings from losing him. And as much as you've tried to hide it from Tony, he found out, as with everything. Thankfully, he loved it.

Tears well in your eyes. You stare out your window as your throat grows tight. Every day you've cried for him. You wish you could start to heal now. Tony helps. When he's not pushing your buttons. When he wraps his arms around you, you turn and hug him back. You let the tears fall as you weep into his chest. He doesn't say anything. You appreciate that. Pity feels so fake. 

When you quiet down, Tony pats your back. "I'll make some hot chocolate, okay? Then we can chat about your first day." 

You sniffle and wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. You laugh softly. "Yeah. I'd like that."


	3. Revenge and Relaxation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash gets some revenge on you but it leads to something great!

"So what're you guys doing for Thanksgiving break?" You ask, shoving an entire dinner roll in your mouth. It was something you picked up from Tony when you were six. Your dad was impressed and thought it was hilarious. 

It's been nearly a month since your first day. You've gotten a lot closer with your small band of nerds. And Flash still has yet to take his revenge. Now, though, you've stopped worrying about it. He's not worth the pain. 

"We were thinking of having a dinner between the four of us at my place," says Peter. "What do you say? Everyone else is on board." 

You nod. "Yeah I'd be down. I'll check with my uncle, but I'll probably go regardless of what he says." 

"You don't get along well with him, do you?" Peter asks. 

You shrug. "Well enough. I love him and all but sometimes he can be a bit overbearing. And I feel a bit in his shadow. He's so smart, always inventing things. I try, but I'm just not good at it." 

"You're good at lots of things, though. Hardly anyone has a knack for technological advancements. Trust me." 

"Yeah!" Ned agrees. "You're really good at Spanish!" 

You snort. "Ned, that hardly counts." 

"Well, you're really good at English then!" He offers. 

You roll your eyes but laugh lightheartedly. He's always trying to brighten your day, or make you laugh. As lunch drags on, you find your stomach hurting with laughter. And as you listen to Ned and Peter rant about Star Wars, you find yourself leaning on Peter's shoulder. At first you hardly notice. It's just comfortable. But the second you realize what you've done, you shoot upwards and try to hide your blushing. 

Peter glances at you and smiles, but says nothing about it. Butterflies flutter in your stomach. You grit your teeth and digest them. For the past few weeks, you've found your stomach knotting every time you look at him. At his adorable dimples. His contagious smile. His captivating brown eyes, that when you look into them you feel at home. But you have no idea if he feels the same. So you try to kill the feelings. So far, you've been unsuccessful.

The last bell of the day rings and you dash out of AP Lit to meet up with Peter. As always, he's waiting for you by your locker, the same doofy smile plastered on his face. You wave at him and beam. Warmth tingles in your veins. 

"Sup loser?" You greet him with a light punch to the shoulder. 

He puts his hand over his heart, feigning offense. "Loser? Y/N, how could you?" 

You laugh and open your locker. "So, I texted my uncle, you know, about Thanksgiving? He said it was fine as long as I spend some time with him the day after. We were just planning on the one day, right?" 

Peter nods, his curls bouncing. You giggle to yourself about it. "What? What's so funny?" 

"Nothing, you're just cute," you reply without thinking. As soon as the words pass your lips, your mouth goes dry and your hands clench the door of your locker. Holy shit, what did you just say? You can't even find the words to stammer, let alone smoothly recover from that. 

"Aw," Peter teases, "you think I'm cute." 

"Hm," you reply, gaining back your suave. He thinks it was just a joke. You can work with that. "Yes, I suppose that is what I said. Lying can be really easy, can't it?" 

He laughs. It sends a jolt of joy tingling through your veins. "Alright, alright. I get it." 

You pull some textbooks out of your locker and shove them into your backpack. "I'm kidding, Peter. You're adorable. It's one of the reasons I adore having you as my best friend." 

Peter puts his arm around you and draws you into a hug. "The same goes for you, ya know." 

As you stand there in the hallway, enveloped in his strong, comforting arms, you feel truly at peace. The sweet, homely scent of him makes you feel happier than ever. While you appreciate his scent, you realize now that you're actually smelling him. Embarrassed, you pull out of the hug. Thankfully, he hasn't seemed to notice. 

Together, you walk down the hall, picking up Michelle and Ned on the way. You've done this routine for the past month, walking them to the bus and then turning and walking alone to Happy, who always sits silently in the sleek black car waiting for you. Which ironically makes you unhappy. Today, you decide maybe Happy can forget about you. 

"Hey," you say, trotting down the stairs, "could I come over to your place and hang for a bit? I'd love to see how the famous Peter Parker lives."

He chuckles nervously. "Famous? I wouldn't say I'm famous." 

You raise an eyebrow. He shuffles his feet and won't meet your eyes anymore. "I wasn't serious. Why are you so nervous? What're you hiding, Peter?"

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, you were only teasing him. But now you're curious. Unfortunately, you don't get long to mull it over.

Water drops over you as you step outside. You gasp, startled. It soaks clean through your sweater. Mostly bewildered rather than angry, you look up. Leaning out of a second story classroom window is flash, laughing hysterically. 

"Real mature, Flash!" You yell, flipping him off. But he's hardly done. A waterfall of chunky brown liquid pours over you, dousing your hair completely and trickling down your clothes. You stand with your hands out and your eyes closed. Anger boils in the pit of your stomach. But you will not give him the satisfaction. You will not, you will not, you will not. 

"Fuck you!!" You scream up at him, giving in to the impulse. He only laughs some more and disappears. You wipe gravy from your eyes and glare at Peter. "Harmless, huh?" 

"He's an ass." Peter frowns and attempts to wring some gravy from your hair. "C'mon over. I'll help you get cleaned up."

You step out of the shower for the fourth time. Steam fills the bathroom from top to bottom so much so that you could tell yourself you were in a cloud and you might believe yourself. It took nearly an hour and a half of showering to get all the gravy off of you, and out of the crevices you never thought it could reach. But now, you stand in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, clean and content, if a bit angry. 

Slowly, you pry the door open. No one is in the hall so you tip-toe down towards Peter's room. You knock. When he opens the door, his face goes a bright shade of red. Maybe he doesn't do it consciously, but you catch him checking you out. Not that you blame him. If he were standing at the threshold of your bedroom in a towel, you would probably stop functioning all together. 

"Hey," you giggle, waving your hand in front of his face, "earth to Peter. Did you get my clothes cleaned?" 

He snaps himself out of his embarrassment. "Uh, not really. Your pants are fine, but I think your sweater is ruined. I'm sorry." 

"It's okay. I can't really walk around in just a bra, though." You frown. "Maybe I should have just gone home." 

Peter puts a hand on your shoulder and promptly snaps it away, the second he realizes what he's doing. "No, it's fine. You can wear my decathlon jacket." 

You smile. "Thanks." 

Both of you stand there in awkward silence, staring into each others eyes. After a moment, you clear your throat. 

"Er, would you mind giving me the room?" 

He nods fervently. "Oh, yeah, right, sorry. Go right ahead!" 

You slide past him into the room and shut the door. It's a cute room. Very nerdy. There's a fully built Lego Deathstar displayed on top of his dresser. Intrigued, you touch it. A couple piece fall off. You curse silently to yourself and attempt to put it back together. It only kind of works. You hope he doesn't notice. 

Finished inspecting Peter's room, you finally shrug off your towel and jump into your underclothing and leggings. Then you pull on his heavy yellowish jacket. You bunch up a bit of the front and bring it to your nose. It smells nice. Like a mix of the busy air of the city and the homely comfort of your summer home in Argentina. Like Peter. You smile and bite your lip. 

Knock knock. 

"Y/N, are you good?" Peter calls from the other side of the door. 

You answer by opening it. "Yeah. Thanks for this by the way."

He grins. "No problem. Looks good on you." 

You blush. A beat of silence passes between you two. Finally, you break it. "So, wanna do anything? We could invite Michelle and Ned over, if you want." 

"Just you and me is fine, I don't mind."

Your heart flutters. "So, then, movie time?" 

He nods and leads you to the living room. "What do ya wanna watch?" 

You browse through his meager selection and finally decide on Hook. It's an old movie, but one of your favorites. You pop the DVD in and snuggle up on the couch, wrapped in blankets. Peter sits next to you, close enough to touch. Nonchalantly, you glance around him. 

There's so much space on the other end, you think gleefully. 

Night rolls around and you're onto your third movie - this time it's Star Wars. Peter insisted you watch all of them, not just second one. Which you thought was underrated, by the way, but he seemed to care more about the fact that you picked one of the least popular and it wasn't even in order. 

May had come home a while ago. Now she's in the kitchen making some sort of stir fry. The spicy aroma wafts under your nose. Your stomach gurgles. 

"You guys ready to eat?" May asks, distributing even servings on three plates. 

"Always!" You exclaim. Immediately, you jump up and bolt over to the table. Greedily, you start shoveling it into your mouth, without waiting for anyone else. You realize it's a bit rude, but you can't help it. You'd learned to eat while you could. Otherwise your dad would take thirds from your plate. Usually in good fun. But sometimes you didn't trust it. 

About half an hour later, you all sit together at the table with empty plates scraped clean. You're still a bit hungry, but you won't ask for anything more. 

"So, Y/N, I've heard a lot about you!" May says, sparking up conversation. 

"Oh, have you?" You nudge Peter jokingly with your elbow. He nudges back. 

"Argentinian, huh? What's it like there?" 

"Oh, uh well it's great. Nowadays. The government's better than it used to be. So uh, there's that." No one has really asked you that much about where you came from. Not that many people know, but still. "I live more south so it's colder. Personally, I think it's prettier. But I'm biased." 

May chuckles. "Understandable. But I hope Queens is to your liking." 

You look over at Peter and grin. "Yeah. It definitely is." 

After a bit more of small talk, you move to wash your dishes. May snatches it out of your hands. "There will be none of that! You're the guest. You kids go finish your movie." 

"Thank you." 

You and Peter curl up on the couch next to each other and continue on with the fourth movie in the Star Wars saga. The sun has completely disappeared beyond the horizon now. Stars twinkle in the charcoal sky. Sleep slowly weighs down your eyelids. You fight to keep them open. But before long, you've fallen into a dreamless sleep.


	4. What The Hell Is Happening?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something bizarre occurs in your apartment...

When you awake, it's pitch. The only light emanates from the streets outside the apartment. The TV is off. You don't remember finishing the movie. Your head lies on Peter's shoulder and his rests on top of yours. He's snoring softly. You smile to yourself. This is the perfect moment. 

You pull out your phone to find twelve missed calls from Tony Stark. And about forty thousand text messages. All of them saying things along the lines of where the hell are you and are you okay and one asking if you liked hot dogs better or the bun. You're not sure what that means, but you're almost positive he was drunk. 

Mierda. You groan internally. Tony is going to kill you. 

Slowly, you reach over and grab one of the couch pillows. You place it beneath Peter's head and quickly slip away. Thankfully his head only lolls a bit and he remains asleep. For a moment, you stare at him. When he sleeps, he's so peaceful. Almost more handsome than when he's awake. But this way you don't get to see his eyes. After standing in the middle of the living room like a creeper for a minute, you quietly slip out the door. 

As you walk out of the apartment building, you shoot Peter a text. 

Hey sorry I'm not there when you wake up. Don't worry, went home. Uncle freaked. 

You turn a corner onto a dark street. An eerie feeling creeps up your spine. 

Probably won't get your jacket back though. Guess we'll just have to hang out again :)

You tuck your phone back into the pocket of Peter's jacket. Chilly air tugs at your hair and nips your cheeks. You pull the jacket tighter around you. Your footsteps are seemingly the only sound in the strangely quiet city. Where are all the cars? The angry drivers? The drunken club goers? You swallow nervously. Something's off. 

Subconsciously, you pick up your pace. And you swear, you swear you hear heavy footsteps behind you. You tell yourself that's okay. People can walk around at night in the city. You definitely should not be. But alas, here you are. 

Finally, you reach the small apartment on the other side of Queens that you share with Tony. He sublet it years ago just after you were born in case you ever came to stay for an extended period of time. And now it's your home. 

You insert the key and turn the lock. The door silently glides open. Knowing the layout of the apartment like the back of your hand, you don't dare turn on the light in case you wake Tony. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to matter. 

"It is three in the morning, Y/N!" 

At the sound of your uncle's voice, you jump. He's sitting in a rolling chair your rolling chair, arms crossed. You find it vaguely comical that he would take the chair all the way from your room just to sit in the middle of the apartment like one of those parents in the movies. Comical, but annoying. 

 "You're really perceptive," you drawl, making for your bedroom. Tony stands and blocks your path. You huff and cross your arms. "What." 

"I was worried!" He exclaims, running a hand through his hair, staring at your jacket. "Where were you?" 

"Peter's. Time got away. Sorry." 

"Wearing," Tony presses, raising a vindictive eyebrow, "his jacket?" 

"Oh chill. It wasn't like that. Can I go to bed now?" You shove past him, but he grabs your elbow and spins you around. You take a deep breath in, ready for a fight with him, but he only pulls you into a hug. 

"Just tell me next time, okay? I was so worried about you." He squeezes you tighter before letting you go. "Goodnight." 

You trot to your room. "Goodnight." 

"Here, try it like this." Tony shows you how to put together two wires in one of your prototypes. He's spent all day trying to teach you how to work with electronics. You understand the basics, and more than the average person. But you know you'll never reach Tony's level. 

You mimic his actions on your own piece of tech. It's being difficult. Hardly working. Sparks fly every time you touch them together. Finally, you get the correct wires together. You put down the tiny tweezers and hold up the inch long black device. A proud smile brightens your face. Hopefully, this time it works. 

You put the device in your ear and tap it. A streak of blue races across it and it emits a high pitched ringing. You push through it as the frequency dies away. Tony puts in the other and starts talking. As you hear him clear as day, you pump your fists in the air. Success! For once it works properly!

Your joy is cut short as something shatters in your bedroom. You exchange glances with Tony. Against your better judgement, you head towards the sound. When you open the door, you find a man standing in the middle of the room. He's dressed completely in white, his face covered, save for a slit for the eyes. Three red bands circle the top of his right sleeve. You hardly have time to scream before he clamps a hand over your mouth and uses the other to lock your hands together. 

Adrenaline kicks in. You kick backwards with as much strength as you can muster, hitting him in the knee. His grip loosens slightly. Just enough for you to break your hands free and elbow him in the gut. You dash out of the room and close the door behind you, holding the doorknob to keep it shut. You glance over your shoulder at Tony who stares at you quizzically. 

"What's-" 

He doesn't get to finish his question. More people decked out in white crash through the front door, heading straight for your uncle. Not having much time to react, the intruders lunge at Tony and pin him to the ground. 

"Tony!" You scream. The man on the other side of the door wins the wrestling match and throws the door open. You stumble backwards and he tackles you to the ground. 

For your uncle, it isn't hard to throw off his assailants. After all it isn't his first time dealing with something like this. And with one punch to the head, Tony knocks one out cold. Another he beats to the ground with a few swift kicks and a cross punch. 

Unfortunately for you, you are not Iron Man. All the fighting you've had was some self defense classes a million years ago. You struggle futilely under your attacker's weight. He yanks you to your feet and drags you towards the small rusting balcony that doubles as the fire escape. You jab your elbows backwards and dig your nails into the man's hands. It hinders him enough for you to slip out of his grasp and grab a lamp on a nearby table. Without hesitation you swing it full force on the man's head. He crumples. 

But he's not the only one. Two more of the intruders bolt for you. One you can manage to fight off. Two? Not a chance. You try to dart between them, but they easily take hold of you, one on each arm. They drag you out onto the balcony. You kick and scream. And worry. Not so much for yourself. But for Tony, who is being swarmed by four of them.  

"Who are you?" You pant, tired from fighting. "What do you want?" 

None of them respond. You yank one arm free and deck the other man in the face. He stumbles and falls seven stories over the edge of the rusting balcony. Shock from the gruesome scene below hinders your ability to fight back anymore. The other man lunges for you, and suddenly you're both toppling over the balcony. 

You're falling. 

Time slows down. Fear explodes in your chest. Involuntary tears trail down your face. All you can think about is how you're going to die. And how Tony is in danger. How you're never going to see Peter's smile again. Your only comfort is that soon you'll see your father.

And then you're not falling anymore. Someone is holding you in one arm, the other wrapped around a string of white. You look up and see a masked face, but it's red and blue. You recognize him as the infamous Spiderman. You grip tight to him until he sets you back down on your balcony. Even then, you don't wanna let go. You can't stop the sobs.

"Hey hey!" Spiderman says, rubbing your back. "It's okay, you're safe now!" 

You cry anyway. But you manage to squeeze out a thank you between sobs. 

He pulls away and studies your face. When he speaks again, it's lower. As if he is trying to change it. "Good thing I was in the neighborhood, huh?" 

You chuckle softly, calming down. "Yeah. Thank god for superheroes, right?" 

Spiderman laughs. "Thank god you're okay. But, I should be off. See if there are any more of those bad guys to catch." 

You nod and he swings off on spider webs. "Bye." 

Just as the spider is gone, Tony bursts out onto the balcony. He wraps you into a hug and you squeeze him back. All the strangers in white are unconscious on the ground or made a run for it. Together you stand on the balcony, staring off into the horizon. Who were those people that attacked? And what did they want? 

What the hell is happening here?


	5. Lock-Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony doesn't want to let you out of his sight, but you're not having it.

Peter swings from building to building struggling to keep up with the assassins dressed in white. But he won't lose them. Not after what he'd seen. Thank god for the robbery on the other end of Queens. If not for that, he might not have saved you. The thought of that angers him. But more than that, scares him. Even now, just thinking about seeing you falling, the sheer fear in your eyes, it twists his stomach with worry. If anything happened to you....no. He won't think about that. That's something that just can't happen.

The figures in white move easily through the busy street. People part their way for them, without seemingly noticing what they're doing. And they're moving fast. Inhumanely fast. 

"Man," Peter pants. "Who are these guys?" 

A scream rings out to his left. He glances over and sees a woman getting mugged. In this moment he has to make a choice. Follow those who almost killed you or be the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. Though it was a hard decision he knows what he has to do. 

Peter shoots his web onto the aunning of a nearby deli shop and swings down into the alley. He touches down right behind the mugger. He taps him on the shoulder and the attacker spins around, purse in hand. 

"Hey, could you hold this?" Peter puts a string of web in his hand. "Thanks! You're a pal!" 

The mugger shoots up in the air. Peter shoots a web upwards and swings around the man, wrapping him in white before dropping back to the ground, purse in hand. 

"Here you go ma'am." He presents her property to her. "Have a good rest of your day!" 

While she scurries off, Peter writes a note with some scratch paper he borrowed from the woman. He sticks it to the casing of spiderweb. 

"Here ya go, man. Don't worry, the police will be here soon to get you out!"

Peter swings away from him onto the roof of an apartment complex. He sits on the edge scanning the streets, searching for any sign of the white clad weirdos. But there's nothing. 

"Hey Karen?" Peter asks the AI in his suit. "Do you know who they were?"

"I am afraid not, Peter," Karen replies. "There are no records of them anywhere." 

"Not even in the S.H.I.E.L.D database?" 

"No. Sorry, Peter." 

Peter sighs. No matter. He'll find them eventually. For now, he should make sure you're okay. 

"Yeah, you may never get this back," you snort, glancing up at the screen. You're on a video call with Peter and Ned, their faces taking up the entirety of your TV screen in your room. It's easier this way, so you don't waste your phone battery. Plus, you can write some more on your story. 

Peter laughs. "It's alright.  It's not imperative I get it back right now." 

"Why do you have his jacket anyway?" Ned asks. 

You feel heat rise in your face again. "You must have heard what Flash did to me. I'm sure the whole school has. But yeah, my sweater was ruined so Peter let me have this." 

"Flash is a jerk," Ned harrumphs, trying to make you feel better. 

You laugh. "Yeah. Anyways, I won't make it to Thanksgiving dinner tonight. My uncle kinda has me on lock-down right now." 

Peter's smile drops. Worry etches lines into his face. "Are you okay?" 

"Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" You ask suspiciously. "Just grounded. Only school and then straight home. Which unfortunately includes break." 

You're not sure why you're lying. Maybe because you don't want them to think you're crazy after telling your story. Or you don't want them to worry. Or maybe it's a small part of you that doesn't want to put them in danger. As if the white warriors wouldn't know about them already. The thought of that makes you uneasy.

"What?!" Ned exclaims. "You can't miss the dinner! It won't be as much fun without you, Y/N."

You wink. "Well I know that." 

The others laugh. You chat for a while longer and suddenly you're doubled over with laughter at a noise Ned made that he profusely claims was just a sneeze. You're laughing so hard you're crying. Peter's laughter layers over yours creating a joyous harmony. You're so happy, you almost forget about the events of that night. 

Just then, Tony bursts into the room, a wild look in his eyes. You immediately stop laughing and stare wide eyed at the TV screen. 

"Are you okay? I heard crying!" 

"Whoa hey is that-" Peter doesn't get to finish his sentence as you turn the TV off. You do not want your friends knowing you're related to Tony Stark. 

"I was laughing," you huff throwing a pillow at him. "Tony I'm fine. You don't have to keep me locked up in here you know. And the bodyguards are a bit overkill, don't ya think?" 

You gesture to two burly men standing in front of your door. And there are another few on the fire escape and front door. 

"I just want to keep you safe!" He protests. 

You ball your hands into fists. Keep the anger under control. "Safe, sure. Happy? Certainly not. You won't even let me go to dinner with my friends! I'm so bored!" 

"If you go out there-" 

"Anything could happen. Literally anything, anywhere, any time," You fume. "Keeping me locked up in here is like prison! You're living in fear! If you can call this living." 

Tony sighs. "You'll understand someday." 

"Understand this!" You grab the nearest thing on your bedside table - the hardcover version of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and chuck it at your uncle's head. He ducks, and the book hits the wall, leaving a dent. Tony heaves another sigh and slips out of your room. 

Irritation still fumes in your veins. Unable to focus anymore, you slam your computer shut and shove it under your other pillow. You retrieve the book and slam it back down on the table. After pacing for a moment, you make a decision. You will not remain trapped in here. Tony can worry about you a little more. Maybe he'll remember what it was like to be a teenager and leave you alone. 

You empty out your black school backpack and shove in a change of clothing and your laptop and any other things you can find. You shrug on Peter's jacket over your t-shirt. Hoisting the pack over your shoulders, you open the window and hop out onto the fire escape. As the sun begins to set, you race across Queens.


	6. Thanksgiving With A Side Of Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice getaway with your friends that turns into something a little more exciting. Very cute I love this chapter.

Knock knock. 

You bounce on the balls of your feet. No one answers the door. 

Knock knock. 

You're pounding now, in sync to the loud music on the other side. What are they having a rager? Christ. 

Finally, finally, Michelle answers the door. "Hey loser. Thought you weren't coming." 

You beam. "Well I'm here now! Hope the festivities haven't ended?" 

"Haven't even had dinner yet!" 

You pump your fists in the air. "Great! I'm starving." 

Michelle steps aside to allow you entry into Peter's apartment. Ned is on the couch playing Mario Kart, the other player's side still. You assume that was Michelle's spot. How nice of her to take a break to let you in. But from the looks of it, she's kicking his ass so you hardly think it matters. 

Peter's back is to you. He's in the kitchen, dancing to the blaring music, singing along into a wooden spoon. Apparently, he's cooking dinner. You're not sure whether to be worried or not. You'll give him the benefit of the doubt. But you've seen his Home Ec grade. 

You set your backpack down. As you watch him blindly dance around and stir the gravy, a joyous smile brightens your face. Light on your feet, you dance around behind him. When he doesn't notice you, you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around him. Startled, he jumps. In defense, he brandishes the spoon, probably expecting Michelle or Ned. But when he sees it's you his eyes light up. 

"Y/N!" He exclaims, enveloping you in a hug. "I thought you weren't coming." 

"I managed to slip away from my uncle and all the bodyguards." You smile even wider. "Just to hang out with my loser friends." 

He chuckles, but raises an eyebrow. "Bodyguards? Did something happen?" 

You bite your lip. Shit. You hadn't meant to say that. "It's nothing, really. Please don't worry about it." 

Peter furrows his eyebrows. You're well aware that he knows you well enough to know when you're lying. Thankfully, Ned interrupts, saving you from that conversation. Apparently he had lost in Mario Kart. Monumentally. 

"Hey!" Ned hugs you so briefly, you don't even get a chance to return it. Which is just how he is. Baffled you at first, but you've gotten used to it. "I totally have a question for you!" 

"Shoot!" 

"Is your uncle Tony Stark?"  

Your mouth falls open. That goddamn video call! You figured you had to tell them eventually. But this was sooner than you wanted. You try to talk your way out of it. "No, of course not. If that were true, I feel like I would be more egotistical and living like a king, dontcha think?" 

Ned scrunches his face in confusion, as if he's trying to decide whether to believe you or not. Eventually he nods. "Yeah you're right." 

You are? How in the holy hell did that work? You always thought you were a good liar, but not that good. Even Peter seems a little convinced, though not nearly as much so as Ned. 

A timer beeping keeps you from dwelling on it. Smoke billows up from the stove. You and Peter rush to turn off the heat and put the food on the island counter. It's mostly burnt. No surprise there. Together, you serve up the overcooked mashed potatoes and gravy along with a bowl of stuffing and dinner rolls. There is no turkey. None of you knew how to carve one, and May had insisted on staying out of your fun. 

Peter turns down the music and the four of you take seats at the table. You chat into the long hours of the night, until you're stuffed beyond belief and filled to the brim with joy. This. This is the happiest you've been in a long time. But all good things come to an end. Ned and Michelle left. On her way out, she winks at you. And Ned gives Peter a thumbs up. Despite your efforts not to, your face flushes. 

Silence settles over the apartment, save for the quiet base of the radio. You stare down at your hands, avoiding Peter's eyes. You don't want to go home. But you never asked if you could stay. Would he be okay with it? Surely. 

"So," you speak up, "can I stay overnight? I'd rather not go home." 

Peter nods. "Of course. But on one condition. You tell me what's up with you." 

"Nothing." 

"Y/N, I know Tony Stark is your uncle." Peter crosses his arms. "Saw him clear as day on the video chat. Why do you want to hide that?" 

You sigh. "A lot of reasons. If people knew, I would be treated differently at school, for one. For the other, I wouldn't feel as safe. Because..." 

Your voice catches. You haven't actually talked about the events the other day. Remembering it is frightening. But Peter puts a hand on yours in support. His touch is gentle and warm. 

"Tony and I were attacked by these people in white. And, and I almost died." Tears threaten to fall. You blink a few away. "Peter, I almost died. I was so scared, and I still am. But here, I feel safe. Free and safe." 

He pulls his chair next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders. With his thumb, he dries your tears. 

"With you," you whisper, "I feel safe."

Hey," Peter consoles, turning your head to face his. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Ever."

You lean in closer. Your noses are almost touching. "That's sweet. But you can't always be there."

"I will try." He cups the side of your face in his hand. If he says anything else, you don't hear it. Your pounding heart drowns out every noise, every thought. Every thought except the one screaming at you to kiss him. 

Feeling braver than you ever have, you tilt your head and draw ever closer to him. There is almost no space between your mouth and his. He glances at your lips and back to your eyes, as if asking permission.

Close the gap, Y/N! 

"So," May says, leaving her room. "How was the party?"

You snap away from Peter so fast you almost topple over your chair. Embarrassment replaces your brief lapse of bravery. 

May covers her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know anyone was still here!" 

Peter swallows and runs a hand through his hair. "It's okay May! Y/N's gonna stay the night if that's alright?"

May smiles, and a knowing glint lights up her eyes. "Yeah, that's fine. So long as there's no-"

Peter goes bright red and his voice cracks when he speaks. "May!" 

She winks and starts to do dishes. You crack a smile as Peter grabs your sleeve and pulls you to his room. He closes the door behind you. Suddenly, you're very aware that you are alone together. In his room. And you're wearing his jacket. 

Vaguely, you remember breaking his Lego model last time you were here. It seems to be fixed. Why do you care? You're pretty sure you're just trying to distract yourself from your feelings. 

Peter sits down next to you on the bed. Awkward silence hangs thickly between you. Neither of you say anything for a while. 

Finally, he cuts through the fog of quiet. "So."

"So," you reply, turning to look at him. 

"Have you gotten better? Ya know, about your dad? About everything?" 

You turn away. Staring at the ground, your eyes trick your brain into seeing designs on the white carpet. "Uh yeah. It's been a lot easier since meeting you. I actually haven't thought about my dad today. Cried for him, I mean." 

 Peter scoots closer. Your legs are touching now. "I'm happy you're getting better. That's all I want for you."

Warmth burns across your face. That same voice chants over and over in your mind. Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him. "And I for you."

Finally, you can't take it anymore. He seems to have the same idea. Both of you move in to close the gap. Your heads knock. Despite the sudden jolt of pain, you don't pull away. This is too important. Slowly, you lean in further. 

And then your lips are brushing. The faintest touch. The gentlest. Peter puts a hand at the back of your head and draws you in even more, deepening the kiss. Your hands fly up of their own accord, wrapping around his neck, tangling in his curls. 

Your lips part. Pleasure thrills in your veins. Though you're no longer kissing, neither of your hands move. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. 

As much as you try to hold back, you giggle breathily. Peter's face goes red. 

"Was it bad?" He asks, nervously. 

You press your forehead against his. "No. No Peter. It was amazing."

It was perfect.


	7. Make That a Side of Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You had lots of fun last night but the consequences of sneaking out catches up to you.

You blink your eyes open to soft moonlight. The silver rays illuminate Peter's unkempt bedroom. You're lying in his bed. An arm is wrapped around your middle. Shyly, you glance over. Peter is sleeping soundly, his head tucked into your shoulder. You smile and bite your lip. You finally did it. You kissed him. 

And promptly fell asleep. 

But the feeling still lingers. The most wonderful feeling in the world. Just thinking about it renders everything else insignificant. Even the attempt on your life. As you think more on it, the reality sets in. A sinking feeling weighs down your stomach. Someone had tried to kill you. Or Tony. Or both. And you've been acting so reckless lately. You know Tony's only trying to protect you. You curse at yourself. He'll be so worried. Why do you insist on causing him such heartache? 

You glance over at the clock. It's almost six in the morning. Tony will be up soon. You figure you should get back before he notices. Silently, you attempt to lift Peter's arm from you without him waking. Alas, no such luck. 

"Hey," he mumbles, half asleep, eyes still closed. "Where ya going?" 

You switch to your other side and plant a kiss on his nose. He smiles. "I'm going home. I have to apologize to Tony for something. It's going to eat at me the rest of the night if I don't." 

Peter's eyes open. "Let me walk you?" 

"I'll be okay. The sun is going to start rising soon. Besides, there's always good ol' Spiderman to protect me, right?" You joke. 

He nods. "Right." 

"Bye Peter. I'll see you later." 

By the time you set foot outside Peter's apartment, the silver of the moon has been replaced by the golden light of dawn. A gentle breeze tugs at your hair. You take a deep breath in. It smells like chaos. Like fun. Like the city. You smile. It's not so bad being here. Although you're sure store employees will not feel the same today. People are already lining up for Black Friday. How bizarre, you think, that America has a shopping holiday. 

Feeling more confident than normal, you happily stroll down the busying streets. Sweet aromas tickle your nose. Your mouth waters for a warm pastry. You remind yourself that you have more important matters at hand. It's harder when your stomach makes such a good case. 

Your phone rings. It's Tony. You sigh. Maybe you should have left earlier. As you turn the corner down a less busy street, you answer. 

"Hey." 

"Hey?" He replies, anger lining his words. "That's all? Just hey? I thought something happened to you." 

You bite your lip. "I know. I'm sorry. I was just mad at you. I went to Peter's. I'm coming back home, though." 

"Sorry isn't good enough! When are you going to learn that not everything is about what you want?" 

You huff, getting slightly annoyed. "Says you, Mr. I'm-Better-Than-Everyone. I'm trying to apologize Tony I-" 

Suddenly, someone yanks on your arm and you drop the phone. 

"Dude, what the hell!" You exclaim, whirling around. Before you stands a man dressed in dark clothing. An unnerving smirk is plastered on his face, and his gray eyes are emotionless. Panic explodes in your chest. Without hesitating, you turn and bolt. Unfortunately, you don't get very far. Another intimidating man - this one with a beard - waits for you. Unable to stop fast enough, you run head on into him. 

"Ah, hello little Miss Stark," he purrs. 

Shit! Shit shit shit. Your mind reels. God you hate it when Tony's right. Especially if it's about this. The man roughly grabs hold of your shoulder before you can make a run for it again. You wildly glance around, searching for a way to escape. For someone to help. But for such a busy city, there is no one. 

"Sueltáme!" Instinctively, you revert back to Spanish. You try to wrestle your arm away from the man, but he digs his surprisingly sharp nails in deeper. You cry out. "Help! Somebody!" 

Your captor spins you around and locks his arm around your neck. Black spots dance in your eyes as the air is choked from you. Weakly, you kick backwards, making contact with his shin. But it hardly affects him. You struggle futilely as he brings up a strong smelling rag to your nose. For as long as possible you try to hold your breath. But when your lungs are burning, screaming for air, you can't hold back anymore. You take a deep breath. 

And then everything goes dark.


	8. The Charmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're trapped, terrified, and thinking a way out of your situation. As you do, something strange comes to your aid.

Tony throws his phone against the wall. Worry tugs at his heart. Something happened to you. He wasn't careful enough. Or he was too careful. Whatever he did wrong, it doesn't matter now. Because something happened to you. And it's his fault. Peter's fault. He should have been there with you! 

A myriad of emotions battle for control over him. Anger takes precedence. Tony storms out of the apartment. He's going to find you and kill your captors. And then if he has time, kill Peter. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you awake, your head is pounding. For a minute your vision is hazy, but then it comes into focus. You're in a dark room. Well furnished. The floor beneath your feet is carpet. But not the normal kind of carpet. Old lady, orange and black gaudy carpet that's torn up in some places. To your left is a worn wooden table with a lamp on it. That too, is rather garish. Even the hard wooden chair you're sitting on has nauseating patterns etched into it. 

You try to move your hands, but find them locked together. Rope digs into your wrists so hard it burns. Fortunately, your feet are free. Not that there's much you can do. Scoot the chair a bit maybe. Where? There's no point. Fear explodes in your chest. You try to break apart the ropes. As if you could somehow summon superhuman strength and just snap them in a single action. 

Your lip begins to tremble. Don't cry! You're not going to cry! But a lump still forms in your throat. You can't help fearing that you're going to be here forever. 

The door on the opposite end of the room flies open. Harsh light pours into the room. You turn your eyes away. 

"She's awake," A gravelly voice says. 

"No shit." 

You let your eyes adjust to the bright light and take in the faces of your captors. It's the same two who took you on the street. You swallow over the lump in your throat and set your jaw. They will not have the satisfaction of your terror. Faux confidence takes over you. Better than nothing.

One of the men - the clean-shaven one with the dead eyes - crouches down in front of you. Were he not a terrifying emotionless evil man, you might find him attractive. He tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. Your hands clench so hard your nails dig into your palms. 

"So you're Y/N Stark." 

You say nothing. Only glare. Staring into his eyes is unsettling, but you refuse to relent. 

"Not as talkative as your uncle," he muses. "Just as annoyingly confident, though." 

Oh so that's working. You're not sure that's a good thing or not. You scrunch your nose in disgust as he trails a finger down the side of your face. 

"Oh, come on, Stefan. Keep it in your pants," the older bearded man grunts. 

Stefan rolls his eyes. "I'll do what I damn well please, Kent." 

"You won't until we get our money." 

Still, Stefan doesn't listen. He runs a hand through your hair and gets close enough to your face that you can smell his breath. It reeks of sardines. "She won't mind, right?" 

You spit in his face. "Get the hell away from me."

Stefan immediately takes a step back. Confusion crosses his face for a moment, but it's quickly replaced by anger. Before you can even comprehend what's happening, he's punched you straight on in the face. Hot pain erupts in your nose. Iron fills your mouth and scarlet stains your lips. You gasp in surprise. 

Kent holds back Stefan's arm. "You dumbass! You can't hurt her! Do you really want to piss off Iron Man?" 

"I'm pretty sure you're past that point," you seethe, spitting blood. "When my uncle finds you he'll kill you." 

Kent approaches you. "You seem so confident in that. As long as you're in our custody, we get money and our lives." 

You swallow nervously. So this is just a ransom thing. Nothing like the terrifying strange men in white the other day. These are just low-life criminals looking to make a quick buck. Well you will not be their source of that. 

"You better hope I stay in your custody then," you reply. Probably not best to provoke your captors. But you can't help it. Maybe you do have little of Tony in you. Maybe a little too much. 

Kent, though the obviously more collected one, seems to have a bit of trouble keeping from punching you. "Just because we prefer to keep your face so pretty doesn't mean we always will." 

"You don't scare me," you lie. "I'll get out. Some way or another." 

Your captor just shakes his head and stands up. From his pocket, he pulls out a rather old fashioned video recorder. He flips it on and points it at you. He starts rambling off his list of demands in exchange for your safety. You glance around. There has to be a way out of this! And then you start to think. Words have always been your strong suit. And you'd managed to convince Ned he hadn't seen something he had. And the gray-eyed man...

A poisonously confident smile creeps up your face. It's crazy, but it just might work. You try to put as much persuasion and confidence into your voice as possible. 

"You should put down the camera," You suggest. Your voice is much thicker than you remember. Slowly, Kent lowers it. Something sparks in his eyes, but you keep talking, and he can't seem to resist. "Put it down, and then come over here and untie me." 

Slowly, he steps forward. His companion grabs his arm. "What the fuck are you doing?" 

You snap your attention to him. "You, shut up and sit down." 

Furiously, he obeys your orders. You refrain from crying with joy. Any falter in focus and you could lose your hold on them. Assuming you have a hold on them. You're not sure what else would explain this. The bearded captor begins untying the ropes that bind your hands together. 

When your wrists are free, you take the opportunity to snatch the lamp and hit Kent over the head with it. He crumples to the ground. You are pretty handy with those, you think. Maybe you should teach professional self defense classes with lamps.

Not worrying about the camera, you race out of the room and slam the door shut behind you. You're not sure how long your command will hold on the other man. But you're not going to stand around and wait to find out. 

You crash through the one story house, breaking some things every now and then, and burst out the front door. You vaguely recognize where you are. Just on the very outskirts of the city. If you run fast enough, maybe you can escape into the bustling streets. Adrenaline pounds in your veins as you race towards Queens. Unfortunately, Stefan breaks out of the door and is right on your heels. 

As soon as you step into the city, more relief floods your veins. Just a bit more running and you can lose yourself in the crowds. You're almost safe. 

Until you're not. 

Stefan catches up to you with ease. He grabs your arm. You start to cry out, but a ring of cold steel presses into your side. A gun. 

"Make one wrong move, speak one word," he growls into your ear, "and I shoot you dead right here." 

A new wave of fear washes over you. You clamp your mouth shut. Oh god. You fucked up. You fucked up real bad. He instructs you to put on a happy face. You try your best. It's feeble, but passable. You blink a tear away. How can you be so close to escape, and yet so very far away? 

A blur of red and blue catches you off guard. Dropping down right in front of you is the one and only Spiderman. He crosses his arms. 

"Hey man, if you're going to shoot anyone, shoot me." 

Stefan turns the gun and immediately starts firing at him. With ease, he swings out of the way. You take the chance to wrestle the gun from his grip and dart into an alley. Even if it means you get hurt, you won't risk passersby getting shot. Your captor follows you, but Spiderman swings to a halt between you two.

"Leave her alone, man! Pick on somebody your own size!" He swings around and lets loose a stream of web, attaching it to Stefan's arm. "Or, better yet, pick on no one at all!" 

Unfazed by Spiderman's advances, Stefan grabs on to the web and yanks him towards him. Apparently, Spiderman wasn't expecting that. And now you're in a predicament where this low life has a choke hold on a superhero. While you shakily hold a gun. What a time to be alive. 

"You wanna play this game, Stark? Give me the gun and go quietly. Or I'll choke out your hero here." 

Anger sparks in your eyes. You will not let either happen. He can't stop you from speaking. Not now. So you muster up everything you've got and command, "Let. Him. Go." 

The moment he does, Spiderman wraps webs around him until he's almost completely encased. You drop the gun. 

"Are you alright?" He approaches you with caution. There's still a wild aura about you. Something about the raw power of your words makes you feel even more alive. 

You nod. "Yeah. Thank you." 

"You should get back home. I'm sure your uncle is very worried about you." He offers his hand. Hesitantly, you take it. And then you're soaring through the air. Immediately your mind jumps back to when you were falling. You wrap your arms around Spiderman. And man is he ripped. You blush at the thought of that. And then you peek over his shoulder. Wind whips through your air. As terrifying as this feeling is, it's also thrilling. 

When you touch down, you're in front of your apartment building. You wonder how he knows where you live but you hardly have time to ask. 

"Stay safe." And then he's gone. 

You watch his figure fade into the distance. Something about him seems familiar. Something in his voice. Almost as if he were Peter. But that's impossible. 

Right?


	9. Talk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're fed up with Peter ignoring you and you're going to get him to talk to you again one way or another.

It's been a week since Thanksgiving break. You stare out the window of your Spanish class. It's snowing. Strange to think that just a week ago it was sunny and warm. Not that you don't like snow. Blankets of white across the ground, frosty designs glittering on the trees. But that's when it's done storming. When it's not gray and bleak. As bleak as you feel. 

You turn your head forward. Peter sits a few seats in front of you. It's been a while since you've talked. In fact, the last you spoke was when you kissed him. And you don't know what it means or how he feels. Or how you feel for that matter. It feels like he's been ignoring you. Not texting you, not calling you. Not hardly even looking at you. So does he not care? Do you mean nothing to him? Annoyance tugs at you. Maybe you should make him jealous. 

No, you scold yourself. That's not the way to solve this. 

But you almost don't want to talk to him. For one, you're petty enough to give him a taste of his own medicine for however long it lasts. Two, you don't want to somehow influence his decisions or feelings with your words. You have no idea where that power came from. And you still haven't told anyone. You don't know what to make of it. 

The bell rings. You angrily shove your books into your backpack and head for the door. Peter doesn't wait for you. Or even look back at you. 

"Espera, Y/N." Your teacher calls. 

You walk over to her desk. "Yeah?" 

"Your accent is very good, you know. And your Spanish is flawless. Are you sure you should be in this level?" 

You nod. "Yeah, yeah. I just study hard." 

"Well, maybe you should tutor Peter Parker. He's not doing so well." 

Seems unlike him. "Uh, yeah maybe. I dunno."

"You're friends, right?" 

I thought so. "Yeah. Sure. I can help him." 

But you probably won't. For the rest of the school day, you mull over whether you should approach him or let him figure his shit out first. When it gets to lunch period, and he doesn't even acknowledge you as you stand in the middle of the cafeteria, you make up your mind. He can come to you. 

So you take your tray and sit down with Flash and his obnoxious friend. You put on the fakest, flashiest smile you ever have in your life. His shocked expression is all you need to weed your way into his life. After a few minutes talking with him you risk a glance over at your usual table. Ned and Michelle have their backs to you. But for the breifest moment, you catch Peter's eye. Sadness emanates him. You think maybe anger too. But it doesn't matter because he's finally looking at you!

Maybe jealousy is the way to solve this. 

Two weeks. It's been two weeks now since you'd been kidnapped. Two weeks Peter hasn't spoken to you. He wants to. The entire time he wanted to. So badly. But he couldn't. Even now, sitting in chemistry class, he longs to speak to you. To apologize for being such shitty friend. He stares at you, just a row ahead of him. You glance back and he immediately averts his eyes. He can almost feel your angry glare burning holes in his chest. 

Peter's mind wanders back to the morning he'd rescued you. You had literally talked your way out of captivity. Under other circumstances he might have asked you about it. Those circumstances being you knowing who he is. 

That same day, after you'd had a heartwarming reunion with Tony (that Peter will deny happily looking on at) your uncle had come to speak with him. 

Tony flew right in through Peter's window in his suit. Startled, Peter shot straight up in his bed. "Ah, what the hell?" 

"What the hell is right, Parker!" Tony raved. "You let her walk home alone?" 

Panic clenches in Peter's stomach. "What are you talking about?" 

"Someone took Y/N!" 

"What?!" He exclaimed, that panic spreading throughout his veins. Not you. NO. No. 

"You should have been there for her! It's your fault she got kidnapped in the first place!" Tony fumed. "She's always sneaking off to you, putting herself in danger! But that's it. I forbid you from ever talking to her again." 

"But-" Peter protested. 

"Talk to her again, and you lose the suit forever. Got it?" 

And then he was gone. 

Now, you're spending all your time with Flash. Flash! He can't believe he'd driven you into the arms of that asshole. Seeing you all flirty around him? It makes him want to punch a wall. Not just because it means your kiss meant nothing, though it meant everything to him. But because you're crushing on him even after what he did to you! No one deserves a guy like that. You least of all. 

But he can't lose the suit. And if not being your friend means you're going to be okay, then maybe it's for the best. 

Halfway through class, you scoot your chair out and storm over to Peter. No one really looks up from their work. Michelle just continues with your project completely disregarding the fact that you've left. Peter quickly shuts the drawer that holds a relatively new serum for his web fluid. It pops back open without him noticing. 

You grab a chair from an empty lab table and plop down next to him. Anger blazes in your eyes. Somehow, it makes them prettier. But Peter won't say that. He turns his attention to Ned, but he's already asking to go to the bathroom. Obviously he senses the tension between you and him. 

"So," you finally say, after what seems like an eternity of silence. "What the hell is up with you Parker?" 

Peter turns a page in his notebook. Don't talk. Don't talk. Don't look at her. 

Your foot taps impatiently. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me, Peter. I can't have my best friend just avoid me out of the blue. Granted we've only been friends for a couple months. But still." 

Still, he says nothing. But he does meet your eyes. Progress, you think. 

After a minute, you prod on, your voice low. "Is this about the kiss? Because if you've changed your mind Peter, it's okay. I won't hate you." 

He opens his mouth. The hurt that's overtaken your features is enough to make him want to tell you everything. Tell you anything to make that expression go away. 

You lace your fingers together and set them on the table, leaning closer to him. "Talk, Parker."

Peter knows he has to. He sighs. Tony is going to have his head. 

"Okay. I'll talk."


	10. Who Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally begin to put together all of Peter's strange behavior...

By the time Peter finishes speaking, you're fuming. This time Tony has crossed the line. Refusing to let your friends see you? When you get home, you are going to kill him. You are straight up going to take a knife and stab him with it. Maybe not fatally. But you'd get your message across with a prick to the arm, you think. 

The only thing keeping you from screaming is the classroom setting. You'd be sure to get detention. Or laughed at. And you'd prefer neither. 

"That prick," you seethe. "He's unbelievable." 

Peter quickly tries to defuse you. "He's just trying to protect you."

"Whatever. It's not your fault I sneak off all the time." You stand and pace around Peter's desk, trying to calm yourself. A jar of white substance in his drawer catches your attention. Before he can stop you, you snatch it up. It's thick and sticky. You scrunch your nose, trying to keep from laughing. Almost immediately, your anger fizzles away. "You realize what this looks like, right?" 

Peter flushes and tries to snatch it back, but you hold it out of his reach. "Well it's not that."

You smirk. "Why're you so red, then?"

He stammers, trying to get a plausible explanation out, but says nothing comprehensible. You smile wide. There he is. "I'm kidding, Parker. I know it's not that." 

You hand it back to him and he quickly hides it away. Why does he care so much that no one sees it? Then again, it is rather familiar...

The bell interrupts your thoughts and the suspicion immediately flees from your mind. You gather your things and head out the door, side by side with Peter. Michelle and Ned walk a few paces behind you. Curious, you shoot them a glance. Ned gives you a thumbs up, and Michelle hardly acknowledges your existence. Do they know about your kiss? Your heart pounds. Why does that make you so nervous? It's not like they'll make fun of you for it. 

"So," you clear your throat, glancing sideways at Peter, "I've been told that you're struggling with Spanish." 

He chuckles. "Uh, yeah. My mind has been elsewhere lately." 

"Well," you offer, "if you'd like, I can help tutor you."

"Yeah!" Peter beams, pulling you into a side hug. "Of course!"

"Great! Your place, tonight, okay?" 

He nods. You hook your arm around his back, returning the hug. An aura of comfort settles over you. How nice it is to finally have your best friend back. 

When you get home, you make an extra effort to slam the door shut. It closes with a bang and you swear you saw it splinter a bit. Maybe you should look into new doors. 

The anger has returned. And you're fuming. More enraged with your uncle than you've ever been with anyone ever. You take a deep breath and try to keep your voice from shaking. Tony emerges from the living room, a concerned look on his face. 

"Bad day?" He asks. 

You breathe out curtly. When you speak, your voice is brusque. "Oh you have no fucking idea Tony!" 

He just stares at you quizzically, waiting for you to elaborate. 

You throw your backpack onto a nearby chair. Hard enough to make it wobble. Man, when you're angry, you're almost superhuman. "How fucking dare you! Peter told me what you said to him! I cannot fucking believe you! You let me suffer without friends for two whole weeks just because you blamed him for my recklessness? Ground me all you want, uncle, but you will not ever take away my friends again. Understand me?" 

Your eyes are alight with an almost inhuman rage. Tony stares at you in shock of your outburst. He's seen you angry. But this is so far beyond angry. And suddenly he feels like the worst piece of shit on planet earth. "I understand." 

Furious as you are, you're also a little taken aback by his response. You didn't expect him to comply so simply. And then you wonder, are you using your strange power of words on him? You hope not. You don't want an apology from him because you forced it from him. 

"You're right, Y/N. I'm sorry." Tony wrings his hands together. "That was a dick move on my part. In the moment I was so angry and worried and needed someone to blame. Please forgive me." 

You will. You halfway have, after such a sincere apology. But you won't let him know that. He can suffer for a while. Let him think you hate him. "I'm going to Peter's to help him study. If you try and stop me, so help me god I will invert your intestines." 

He just stares at you as you snatch up your backpack again and storm out the door. After you're gone, he smiles softly to himself. Man. You have quite the fire in you. Your father raised you well. 

"Hey!" Peter greets you with a smile when he opens his front door. 

"Sup loser," you respond lightly punching him in the shoulder. "Ready to get fluent in Spanish."

"Yeah I don't think there's enough time in the world for that."

You shove past him into the apartment. "With me there is." 

He chuckles and follows you, closing the door. Soft music float through the apartment from the kitchen stero, matched by the quiet hum of news reporters on the TV. You plop down on the couch and pat the cushion next to you. Peter sits. 

"Okay," he inquires. "Where do we start?"

"Well, have you read the book yet?" You ask. "Because you have to find quotes from it and compare it to your own life." 

Peter groans. "This is no different than Literature class."

"Well this is in Spanish," you point out. 

He cracks a smile. "Okay fine. It's a little different."

You pull out your own copy of the book and slam it onto his coffee table for dramatic effect. "You're smart, Peter. You'll get it. Let's get to it."

 

He does not get it. Two frustrating hours have gone by, you practically translating sentence by sentence for him. Finally, you'd encouraged him enough to read an entire chapter himself and you went to the kitchen to pour some cereal to satiate the growling monster that is your stomach. 

"Te quiero," Peter says suddenly. You almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand. Your heart beats in your ears. 

"W-what?" You murmur. Too soon. It's too soon for that. Isn't it? Maybe not, you think. 

"Magdalena said te quiero to Raúl. That's cute!" He remarks. 

You relax and the adrenaline fades away. Maybe there's some disappointment too. "Oh right. Yeah. Cute." 

You spoon some cereal in your mouth and sit back down next to Peter. His eyebrows scrunch together, deep in concentration. You watch him curiously, taking in all the quirks when he works hard. The tongue sticking out, just slightly. His nose twitching when  he reads something troubling. Everything about him is so cute.

And now your stomach is doing cartwheels. You take another bite of cereal to quell that. Earlier in chemistry was the only time you'd spoken of the kiss. But without any solid answer, or elaboration. But you won't bring it up. Not again. You just got your friend back. You don't want to ruin it with emotions beyond platonic. Those are messy. Glorious, but messy. And you don't have the energy to clean them up right now. 

"So," you prod, "how's the Spanish going?" 

"Not as well as that cereal is for you, apparently," Peter quips. He looks up from the book and beams. You smile back through a stuffed mouth of cereal. His eyes shift over your shoulder to the TV. Curious, you turn to see what's caught his attention. 

On the screen is a rather frightening scene. A man in black with a large gun is sticking up a gas station. Police officers surround the establishment, and inside you can see two cashiers, and thankfully, no customers. When you turn back to Peter, you notice his face is a bit pale. 

"Are you alright?" 

He shakes his head. "No! I totally forgot, I was supposed to pick up something for Aunt May! I gotta go. Feel free to stay until I get back." 

And just like that, he's bounding out the door, backpack in hand. You watch him go, open-mouthed. Why is he always running off like that? Always late to school, leaving school early, up at the odd hours of the night. Now bailing on you. What is he up to? 

You glance back at the TV. A familiar superhero figure swings into view. Something clicks together. Your eyes widen. It's him. It has to be. 

Peter is Spiderman.


	11. The Opposite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more fluff with Peter!

You pace back and forth across the living room, gnawing on your thumb nail. Every four seconds your eyes stray back to the TV screen. It's been over an hour, and the news has stopped reporting on the stickup. Peter should be back by now. What if something happened to him? Fuck. Fuck. A myriad of horrible scenarios plague your mind. You take a deep breath. He's fucking Spiderman. He's fine. 

But he's also just a kid. 

Just as you're considering calling Tony to check up on him, Peter bursts through the door. You can't decide whether to kiss him or kick him. In the end you just throw your arms around him and hug him tighter than you ever have. Hesitantly, he hugs you back. 

"God Peter I was so worried about you!" When you pull away, you punch him in the shoulder. "Where were you?!" 

He rubs his arm, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "I told you. Had to pick up something for May." 

You cross your arms. Annoyance buzzes in your veins. Liar. Just tell me. Tell me and I won't be mad. "Really? Where is it, then?" 

"Whoa, what's with the interrogation?" Peter mimics your stance. "Don't you trust me?" 

You rolls your eyes and sigh heavily. "Of course I trust you Peter. My issue is whether or not you trust me." 

"Yes, Y/N! I trust you more than most people!" 

You anger brims, ready to boil over. "So why won't you tell me, then?" 

Peter throws his backpack to the chair. It lands with such force the chair moves a little bit. Almost as if he has inhuman strength. "Tell you what?" 

Finally, you explode, throwing your hands up in the air. "That you're Spiderman, joder!" 

His jaw drops and he stares wide eyed at you before trying to recover, but the pause is too long. It only confirms what you suspected. "What? No- no I'm not that, er him, I'm not-" 

"I knew it!" You punch Peter again. "I knew it! Peter you're Spiderman? That's so fucking awesome!" 

He does a double take, as if you'd just slapped him in the face. "What? I thought you were mad?"

"I am mad!"

"But you -" 

"Just because it's the most amazing thing literally ever, does not mean I'm not angry with you for not telling me!" You concede, a bit confused yourself. But you're going to keep up with the whole fury facade. Keep him on his toes. He needs that every once in a while. Peter Parker, not his alter ego. 

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to put you in danger." 

You snort, storming over to the kitchen. "I think we're well past that. Association with Tony Stark had me in that boat ages ago." 

Hunger gnaws at your stomach as you slam a bowl down on the counter. Being enraged always ended up making you hungry. So you pour your second bowl of cereal for the night. At this rate, you're going to finish off the entire box before midnight. Peter sits down next to you at the table as you angrily chew. Neither of you speak again until you're finished. 

"Do you hate me?" He ventures. 

That just throws another log onto your fire of anger. "Don't be ridiculous Peter! Quite the opposite!" 

A small smile tugs at his lips. God you hate it when he does that. It just melts away all your rage towards him. It hardly seems fair that he can do that. "The opposite?" 

Time slows down. You realize what you just said. No going back on it now. No way to smoothly recover from that, not in the emotional state you're in. Suddenly, you don't care that you just got him back. You have to know. And then you make an impulse decision. 

You grab Peter's collar and pull him towards you. Sparing no hesitation, you press your lips against his in a hard kiss. In surprise, his lips part. You take the chance to open yours and lock your lips with his even tighter. Your eyes close, savoring the heated moment. 

When you break apart, you're still gripping his shirt, your hands balled into fists, bunching the fabric. There's still barely any space between you, and you stare into his eyes. There's so much wonder there. So much joy. Comfort. 

"I love you, dumbass," you whisper. 

Energy sparks in the tiny gap between you. For an eternal moment, he says nothing. Then he puts a hand on your head and draws you in for another. His fingers tangle through your hair and yours through his in a deep passionate kiss. Your tongue locks with his and you can't help a smile. 

Finally, he pulls away. Something like love glints in his eyes. "Te quiero también."

It's terrible pronunciation. But you don't care. He loves you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this story! A quick note about "joder." It's like my favorite Spanish swearword and generally it means fuck but it can also mean literally anything else. As with pretty much every other swearword. They're all so versatile. I could call you a motherfucker three different ways. God I love Spanish. 


	12. Who's Spiderman Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a fun little escapade with you and Peter!

School the next day is like a whole new world. Colors are ten times brighter. The atmosphere around you is warmer than anything. Suddenly, the building is so much larger. New possibilities jump out at you from every corner of it. A smile won't seem to leave your face. Couldn't make it disappear if you wanted to. 

And then, down the hall, you see Peter. Around him, a sort of white glowing aura gives him an ethereal glow. Everyone else melts away and it feels as if it is only you and him. The only two people on the planet. 

The slam of a locker snaps you out of your trance. You glance over your shoulder. Flash keeps shooting you dirty looks. Honestly, you feel a little bad. Even after the stupid pranks he pulled on you. While trying to make Peter jealous, you had flirted with Flash a ton. But he couldn't have actually fallen for you, right? You shrug. Doesn't matter now. 

"Hey!" Peter greets you, spinning you around. You smile wide as he plants a quick kiss on your lips. 

"Sup loser," you giggle, tucking some hair behind your ear. 

He nestles his face into the crevice between your shoulder and your neck. "How are you doing today?" 

You spin around so quickly he stumbles a bit from lack of balance. The scene is a bit amusing to you. Spiderman not being so quick on his feet. "So, I was thinking." 

"Oh no," he teases. 

You playfully punch him in the shoulder. "Shut up, Parker. I was thinking we should skip today?" 

He does a double take. "What?" 

"Yeah! We could go on a real date or something." 

"And you want to skip class to do that?" He asks, curiously. 

You frown. "I dunno. I thought it might be hot." 

Peter runs a hand through your hair. "Eh, can anything be with you?" 

Again, you punch him, a little harder this time. "Watch it Parker. Just because my wit needs a little sharpening right now doesn't mean I won't stab you with it later." 

He holds his hands up in defense. "Alright, alright. If I agree will you refrain from stabbing me?" 

You beam wide and wink. "We'll see." 

A rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. The other times it was terrifying. Now, it's exhilarating. Wind whips your hair around as you soar through the air.  Peter holds you tight in his arms as he swings building from building. Dressed in his red and blue suit, you can't decide if he's more attractive. Heroism is a turn on. But still, you don't get to see his eyes. 

Your feet touch down on gravel a half hour later. In the shelter of a vacant alleyway, Peter pulls his mask off. He pulls you in for a nice kiss. You smile through it. You're never going to get used to kissing him, but you're never not going to absolutely adore it. Adore him. 

"So, was that fun?" He asks, stripping his suit off. Embarrassed, you turn around. But you sneak glances. 

"Hell yeah it was!" You cheer. "So worth skipping chem, am I right?" 

Peter laughs. "Yeah. Right." 

He shoves the suit into your backpack, having left his own at school. You interlock your fingers with his after he's dressed in that cute flannel he wears almost never. Together, you stroll out of the alley, as if you were a normal couple. People shoot you curious glances. Probably thought you were doing it behind a dingy dumpster. At that thought heat rises to your face, and you almost trip flat on your face. Thankfully, Peter catches you. 

Ignoring his snarky comment about your two left feet, you lead him towards Delmar's Deli-Grocery shop. It's lunch time and your stomach is grumbling. 

"Hey Mr. Delmar!" Peter greets the owner behind the counter. You've never actually met the man, but you know Peter likes him a lot. So you smile and wave excitedly. 

"Hey Peter!" He says back. "Who's your friend?" 

"I'm Y/N!" You introduce yourself. Then you turn to Peter. "Hey, get me whatever you think I'll like. Gotta pee." 

"Alright, sure. Hope you like peanut butter and pickles," he jokes. 

You peck him on the lips. "Do that, and I'll kill you." 

As you race to the bathroom, Mr. Delmar shoots Peter a knowing look. He just smiles and orders two sandwiches. But the gentle ambiance of the store shatters when a tall man strolls through the door. He carries an eerie atmosphere about him. Peter tries to ignore him, but his spidey sense is going wild. 

Keeping an eye on the stranger, Peter takes the sandwiches and pays. Foot tapping, he leans against a glass drink case waiting for you. Something is definitely not right. And he wants you out before anything goes down. Unfortunately, he doesn't get his wish. The man whips out a gun from his bulky coat and aims it at Mr. Delmar. 

"Give me all your money or I'll shoot everyone in here!" He shouts. 

Some people bolt for the door and make it out. Now it's only Peter, Mr. Delmar and a couple terrified customers and employees. And of course you, still in the bathroom. Peter hopes you'll stay there. Because he's about to do something really stupid. 

"Hey man!" Peter shouts. Oh god he's going to get himself shot. "Leave him alone!" 

The man turns and points the barrel of the gun at him. 

As you finish washing your hands, a shot reverberates throughout the store. Instinctively you jump. And then your stomach plummets. Breathing comes difficult. You steady yourself. Maybe you just imagined it. Everything's fine. 

Quiet as possible, you slip out of the bathroom and peek around the corner. Shards from a light litter the ground around Peter. His hands cover his head and he's down on his knees. In front of him stands a thug with a gun and an obvious thirst for greed. Why do there have to be so many goddamn criminals in this city? Can't they give it a rest for one day? 

The shooter looks directly at you. Fear explodes in your chest and you duck back around the corner. How are you going to get out of this? You can't let anything happen to Peter, or to Mr. Delmar, or to anyone in here. You pace back and forth in front of the bathrooms. 

Think Y/N, think! You pull on your backpack straps, trying to come up with an idea. 

Wait...

Oh god no. What a terrible fucking idea. 

You're going to do it anyway. 

Without dwelling on it any longer so won't talk yourself out of it, you open your backpack and pull out the Spiderman suit. You shrug it on and find that it fits surprisingly well. 

"You're not Peter," says a voice from inside the suit. 

You startle so much you nearly crash to the floor, giving yourself away. "Uh no. But Peter's in danger and I have to save him....suit...lady." 

"Karen." 

"Alright," you mutter. "Karen, I have to pretend to be Spiderman." 

"But you don't have the same mobility or strength as him. You might die." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." 

Delaying no more, you take a deep breath and step out into the thick of the crime. Lowering your voice, you say, "Am I interrupting something?" 

Peter freezes. What in the hell are you doing? 

"Spiderman," the shooter growls, narrowing his eyes. 

Oh good. It's working. So far. 

"How about you stop the life of crime and... er, get a job." You have no idea what the fuck you're saying. You don't know how to be a superhero. While you have the man's attention, you try to tie him up with webs. But when you shoot, they just fly right past him and stick to the ceiling. Well, shit. 

Clearly unhindered by your presence, the man grabs Peter by the hood and holds him in a choke-hold, the gun pressing into the side of his head. How come it always ends up back here? Your best friend in the clutches of some asshole who thinks they're above the law.

"Make one more move and I'll shoot this kid." 

Anger sparks. Forgetting that you're supposed to be acting like Spiderman, you cross your arms and say, "No you won't." 

"Really?" The man cocks the gun. Peter's eyes widen and he struggles against the man. Even with his inhuman strength, he can't fight him off. You're going to yell at him for that later. Because the fear you see in him reflects in you and you can't bear it. Being so close to losing him is terrifying. 

You stand your ground. Using webs is so far from your mind right now. You're sure you're going to regret this later. But if it saves Peter, it doesn't matter. You thicken your voice and let the words roll off your tongue. "You're going to put the gun down and you're going to turn yourself in to the police."

Who are conveniently gathering outside of the store, alongside a mob of people. Man, they look angry. You make a mental note to never mess with Mr. Delmar or his store. It's a loved place. 

Driven by an unseen force, the man lowers the gun and puts it on the ground. Peter, the smart lad he is, kicks it over to you. Just in case your words don't hold. But they do, and the man walks towards the door. Unfortunately, he drags Peter with him. You guess you never specified to let him go. 

But you've had enough. This time, you resort to physical force and race towards the man, pulling him away from Peter. You kick open the door and kick the man outside. Before you let your fury take hold and beat the man in front of everyone, your physical conscience pulls you away. 

"Watch it," Peter mutters beneath his breath. "You're still Spiderman." 

"Oh, right, sorry," You apologize. "Shall we get out of here?" 

"Let's." 

And you bolt out the back door of the establishment, pulling off the suit as you go. Filled with exhilaration, you laugh. What a fucking awesome day! You're getting a bit addicted to the adrenaline, you think. Perhaps that's a bit concerning, but you don't care. Your stomach grumbles. 

Shoving Peter's suit back into your backpack and shrugging on your clothes, you yell back at him, "Hey! Don't forget the sandwiches!"

He waves them in the air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why it took me so long to figure out where I was going with this chapter. I thought it was pretty fun though, right? Anyways, it's going to start picking up again soon. Will reader's newfound obsession with adventure and adrenaline get you in trouble? 


	13. Inception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You start having weird dreams and the line between reality and imagination blurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: this chapter is a little out there. Promise it will begin to make more sense later. But this is definitely important. Anyways, hope you guys are enjoying this story!

"That was insane!" You cry, jumping up and down. You're in Peter's apartment again, sitting on the couch. Nerves still electrified, you can't seem to sit still. Peter, on the other hand, is pacing the room, running his hands through his hair. 

"Yeah, it was. You are the craziest person I've ever met." 

You pop a marshmallow in your mouth. "Thank you." 

Peter sits on the couch next to you. You shift and put your head in his lap. Even from the under angle, he's still so adorable. You hardly find that fair. No one should be this cute. 

"You were really brave, you know. Maybe you could be a superhero too," he teases.

You snort. "Yeah, right. Me and what powers?" 

"Your voice," Peter suggests. You look at him curiously. "Don't think I haven't noticed. When you speak you can get people to do what you say." 

You nod. "Yeah I don't know where it came from. It's cool though. Saved your ass more than once." 

He tangles his fingers in your hair, gently brushing through it. "Thanks for that. What would I do without you?" 

"Probably die." 

Both of you laugh softly. You reach up and put your hand on his face. It's strangely warm. You sit up and press your forehead against his. Staring into his eyes, you notice that they aren't entirely focused. Something is off. 

"Peter, are you alright?" Sweat dampens his skin. You wipe it off with the sleeve of his sweatshirt that you definitely stole. Either he didn't notice or he didn't mind. 

He shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't feel so good." 

Pallor replaces the flattering pink of his cheeks. Fear overtakes you. Maybe he's just got the flu, or some sort of bad cold. Something makes you believe that's not the case. You check him over and find a prick in his neck. Tiny. Barely noticeable. But it was there. 

You lay him down on the couch. He murmurs something incomprehensible to you before his eyes flutter shut. His heart is beating too fast. Oh god what happened to him? Wildly, you glance around the apartment. There doesn't seem to be anyone here. Until - 

A flash of white. 

No! They were back. And they knew about Peter. Shit, they knew about him! Did they poison him? Panic squeezes your lungs. Breathing becomes difficult, but you won't allow yourself to give in to fear right now. Not waiting around to get caught, you put Peter's arm around your shoulders and lift him up. Feverish and unconscious, he is much heavier than you expected. 

Struggling to keep your balance, you half stumble, half walk towards the front door. There's not enough time! Like hell they aren't going to stop you before you can escape. If you leave Peter, maybe...

You shake your head. No. You will never leave him. Especially not like this. 

Your eyes snap open. You sit bolt upright on the couch in your own apartment. It's dark. Quiet. Only your heaving breaths can be heard. Sweat plasters your hair to your forehead. 

Taking deep breaths, you try to calm down. It was such a vivid dream, but you know it isn't real. Everything had happened, that much is true. But Peter had walked you home after the escapade. There were no men in white. Your friend hadn't been shot with poison. Everything was fine. 

So why didn't it feel fine? 

You shake yourself off and look at the clock across the room. It's almost time to get up for school anyway. No point in falling back asleep. Slowly, you roll off the couch and touch your feet down on the ground. The linoleum seems too cold. Frozen. 

From another room down the hall you hear Tony screaming in his sleep. Something about Peter. Your heart hammers in your chest. Is he having the same nightmares as you? Oh god, are these people coming for him? You race through your apartment to Tony's room. He's shaking and crying and he just looks so terribly vulnerable. 

You touch him and he snaps awake. His eyes are wild and terrified. "Tony, are you okay?" 

"Oh god, Y/N, where are you? Where's Peter?" Tony runs a hand through his hair. He seems ten times older in this moment. 

"What do you mean? I'm right here." Worry forms a lump in your throat. What the hell is going on? 

Before he can respond, the apartment fades. You reach out and try to hold on to your uncle, but he disappears too. You close your eyes and when you open them, you're on the ground in your Spanish class. Peter kneels beside you, murmuring into your ear. Slowly, you sit up. 

"Y/N, are you okay?" Ned asks. "You just kinda fell out of your chair in the middle of class." 

You shrug. "I'm fine." 

But you're not. You feel terrible. Nauseated. Your head pounds. The images of Peter and Tony suffering are enough to make you want to burst into tears right there. What's real? What actually happened? 

You try to think, and your mind clears. Most of what you first dreamed was true. Sitting at Peter's house. Talking. But then he walked you home, and that was it. Nothing terrible happened. Right? 

Shakily you get to your feet. What kind of inception shit is this? 


	14. Normalish...For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're still reeling from the dreams and having a hard time processing while Peter can't help his excitement from being with you.

Everything is normal. Yesterday you had passed out and had some sort of weird realistic dream. But everything is normal now. You haven't told anyone what you saw in your dreams. Just said you didn't remember anything. Of course that's a complete lie. You can't seem to shake the images from your mind. 

For now, it doesn't matter. You are going to let yourself enjoy normalcy for once in your life. Until those white-clad people pop again, there's not much else you can do but agonize over it every second of the day or just relish in the calm. You go with the latter. Try to, anyway.

Oddly, Chemistry seems four hundred times harder now. 

"Yo," Michelle's voice snaps you back to reality. "Look what I have for you." 

She slides a piece of paper with a drawing of you on it. It's incredibly detailed and very good, but it annoys you. Roughly, you slide it back. "I'm not in the mood Michelle." 

She just shrugs. "Whatever dude. But if you wanna talk, I'm here." 

You flash her a smile but turn your attention elsewhere. Searching for comfort, you find yourself looking at Peter's seat. It's empty. You're not surprised, but you are disappointed. At least Ned gives you a small wave and that adorable thumbs up he does for everything. You laugh softly and shake your head. God you love your nerdy friends.

The bell rings. Time ticks slower than normal, like somehow it had been submerged in molasses. As if walking in a dream, you scoop up your books and head for your locker. Only two more classes to go. You can make it. But even the thought of having to sit through dumb classes - neither of which you have friends in - is already torture. You bang your head on your locker trying to get the boredom out. 

In a way, it works. But you'd rather have it back when you turn to see who's standing next to you. 

"Hey Y/N," Flash Thompson says, leaning up against the lockers. 

You try to be polite. After all, you were friends with him. Briefly. Very briefly. "Hey Flash. Can I help you with something?" 

He offers you a smile. It's oddly sort of sweet. To someone else, it might have been charming. "I was just wondering, erm, uh..."

Curious, you raise an eyebrow. Since when is the suave Flash Thompson so nervous? "Yes?" 

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime?" He meets your eyes for just a quick second, before casting his gaze to the ground. "I kinda really like you. A lot." 

Well, that's unexpected. Flattering. Awkward. Maybe you should make things more official with Peter, so this kind of shit doesn't happen. After a few seconds of very uncomfortable, expectant silence, you clear your throat. "Uh, well thank you, but I'm seeing someone already." 

His face drops. Back to normal Flash. "That's fine. Enhorabuena or whatever." 

You feel a little bad as you watch him race down the hallway. At least he wasn't a terrible ass about it. Even offered you congratulations. In Spanish, no less. You sigh. You find yourself kind of wishing for the men in white right about now.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter swings round the back of the school. Exhaustion eats at his bones. Criminals never give it a rest do they? He takes a moment to breathe in deep and calm his nerves. He hasn't been in school all day. He hopes Ned covered for him. 

Finally, he pulls off his mask. God that thing can be so suffocating sometimes. Fresh air cools his sweat drenched face. 

Ring ring. 

The chime of his phone interrupts his peace. He pulls it out of his webbed up backpack and looks at the caller ID. You're calling. Smiling, he answers the phone. 

"Hey!" 

"Peter! Hey!" The sound of your voice is music to his ears. Despite the aching in his bones, he beams wide. Already, he feels better. "Listen, I had a thought." 

"Oh -" 

"I swear to Christ if you say 'oh no' I will sock you in the fucking face Parker," you threaten. Immediately Peter shuts up, but the smile still lingers. 

"So you had a thought," he says. 

"Yeah, I was thinking, I like you, you like me, we've kissed, we should make this a thing, right? I mean right?" You're talking a mile a minute. Breathy and nervous, it's cute. Peter knows you hate it, but he thinks it's the most adorable thing in the world. "Do you want to be my boyfriend?" 

For a moment, he's struck silent in happy shock. Hearing you call him that is the best thing ever. 

"Erm, Peter?" Your voice pulls his head down from the clouds. "Peter? You still there?" 

"Yeah, I am. Y/N, I'd love to be your boyfriend." Peter laughs in spite of himself. He never thought he could feel so much joy. "More than anything." 

"Great! See you later!" And then you hang up. 

Peter rolls his eyes and changes out of his suit. Smiling seems like the most natural thing in the world right now, and he can't seem to stop. He doesn't ever want to stop. Now that you're his girlfriend, why would he want to? Alone behind the school, he pumps his fists in the air. 

How lucky could one guy be? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this wasn't that good, but I wanted a sorta chill chapter after the last one. Things are going to pick up soon and some shit's gonna go down in the next chapter.


	15. Orange Orchid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Peter are more than happy being together and get a little steamy at home. After Tony kicks you out, something horrible happens.

Boyfriend! He's your boyfriend! You smile wide. Nothing has made you happier. As you practically skip through the streets of Queens, you can't stop thinking about him. God, he's finally your boyfriend! Now you can publicly kiss him and avoid any more awkward encounters from people like Flash.

When you get home, you toss your backpack to the ground with a happy sigh. Humming, you head for the kitchen and make a cup of hot chocolate. It's especially snowy and cold outside for December, and a hot chocolate will only make this day even better. 

"You seem oddly happy today," Tony says, raising his eyebrows in suspicion. 

You shrug, trying to bite back your smile. If you tell Tony you're dating Peter you figure that won't end well. Sure, he loves you both. But you know how overprotective he can be. Especially about dating. You're pretty sure it's not even a guy thing. If you were getting with girls he'd react the same. "Just having a good day." 

"Uh huh." He's obviously not convinced, and tries to pull it out of you. "Dating someone, are we?" 

"We are not," you muse, sipping the drink. Whipped cream sticks to the tip of your nose and the top of your lip. "Just enjoying my cocoa, thanks." 

A knock at the door keeps Tony from whatever snarky comment he was about to reply with. Half of you is disappointed, because you were one hundred percent prepared for a battle of wits with your uncle. That you definitely would have won. Maybe. Probably not. 

You set the mug down and answer the door. Forgetting you have whipped cream on your face, of course. Thankfully, it's no stranger. It's Peter. Although, perhaps that's more embarrassing. In his hands, he hold the most obnoxious bouquet of flowers you've ever seen in your life. Ranging from red to white, you're a little overwhelmed by the annoying beauty of it. 

Behind the array, Peter is blushing madly. Oh how you love it when he gets like this. All cute and bumbling. You hope that part of him never goes away. 

"What's with all this?" You say, closing the door slightly so Tony can't see. 

"Erm, I had a question to ask you?" He holds out the flowers. 

"We already went exclusive, you are aware of that, right?" You whisper, smiling cheekily. 

Peter smiles back. "I was going to ask you, well you know there's the Silver-Belle dance coming up, the one to celebrate winter or whatever. Would you go with me?" 

Instead of accepting the entire bouquet, you just pull one pale orange orchid from the middle. "Duh Peter. I love you."

And then you shut the door. 

"Whoa, hey, what?" He calls from the other end. "I thought we could hang out?" 

You crack the door open slightly. Just enough to peek out. "Uh, yeah, I'd love that, but Tony's here." 

From right behind you, he whispers, "I'm everywhere." 

Startled, you jump. You punch Tony in the arm. "Shut the hell up." 

Tony leans against the door. Vaguely, you can still hear Peter calling to you on the other side. You highly doubt he's going to leave right now. "So, Parker, huh?" 

Smelling the beautiful orchid, you can't hold back your smile. Though your back is turned to your uncle, you're almost certain he can tell. No sense hiding it now. What was he going to do? "Yeah." 

Your uncle hugs you from behind. Shocked, you freeze. "I haven't seen you this happy in a long time. I love that you two are together. It's like my two kids finally hooking up." 

Way to ruin the moment. You scrunch your nose. "Ulch, Jesus Tony. Why? This is not Alabama." 

He laughs. "Yeah I dunno why I said that. Message still stands."

"I don't think it's the message you're going for." 

Tony just shrugs. "You two have a good time, alright?"

Leaving you with a wink, he slips back to his room. Smiling, you allow Peter back in and offer him a mug of hot chocolate. Gratefully, he accepts it. He lays down the rest of the flowers on the coffee table. For a while, you just sit together in silence. Every now and then, you'd sneak glances up from your mug to meet his eyes and quickly look away again. You don't know why you're still so nervous around him. Maybe that's a good thing. That you love each other so much you'll just stay in the honeymoon phase forever.

Peter moves his chair closer to you. So close, you can feel the warmth of his body. You roll the orchid between your fingers. He takes it from you and gently tucks it behind your ear. Fingers lingering there, you put your hand over his. Oh God. You can't hold back your desires right now. The heat between you is too raging. Forgetting about Tony in the other room, you pull him close and lock your lips with his. 

Fire explodes from your core, tingles in your veins. You run your hands through his hair and his through yours. Passion heats up between you two and you find yourself on his lap. Your hand stretches out in pleasure and you accidentally knock off Peter's mug. Hot chocolate spills all over the floor. You hardly care. How could you care about anything else other than Peter in this moment? 

Fortunately, Peter pulls away. A wide smile stretches the length of his face, and he's redder than you've ever seen him. God he's so cute. 

"As much as I love this," he whispers, "maybe we shouldn't be doing this with your uncle in the next room." 

You bite your lip and take a deep breath. "You're right. Maybe we should save it for the dance?" 

Peter laughs, soft and breathy. It's music to your ears. God how you just want to - 

"Really guys?" Tony's voice snaps you from your lustful thoughts. He's standing in the middle of the room, the tiniest screwdriver you've ever seen in his hand, and an annoyed look on his face. "I mean, really." 

Quickly, you jump off of Peter. Gracelessly, of course, and you fall to the ground. Scrambling to your feet seems to take forever as Tony watches you in amusement. Heat rises in your face. 

"Uh hi Tony." 

He rolls his eyes. "Get out of here, both of you. Go on a real date or something. Jesus." 

Saving yourself from any more embarrassment, you grab Peter by the hand and yank him out the door. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As your giggling fades from behind the front door, Tony shakes his head, smiling. You two were made for each other, that's for sure. But he's for certain you're both too young for any of that.  As much as he loves you both, he will not let either of you turn into him.

After a moment of standing in the middle of the apartment smiling to himself, he returns to his room. His lab would be a much better environment for this kind of thing, but ever since it's been moved upstate, he doesn't want to spend that much time far away from you. Laying on his desk is a small piece of technology. Wires spew out of it in haphazard angles. Something isn't right here. And he's so close to a breakthrough! 

The night wears on as he tries to piece them together, screwing so much he thinks he might lose what's left of his sanity. Finally, finally, he finishes. Sighing in relief, he leans back in his rolling chair for a brief moment of relaxation. Now, to test it!

Carefully, Tony picks up the device. It's smaller than the palm of his hand. Gently, he presses the center of the device and five metal rods jump out, stretching the lengths of his fingers. Almost weightless, it is fluid and familiar, as if he's been wearing this his whole life. So, it holds. Check box number one. Now to see if it serves its purpose. 

Slowly, Tony raises his right hand over his lit phone screen. Everything from the phone seeps out of it, and casts across the room in a 3D display. Effortlessly, he shifts through all the data, pushes aside a life-size camera. Clenching his fist, all of the holographs shrink down into a barely noticeable flickering white light. An all too easy way to transfer top secret data without anyone knowing. 

Satisfied with his work, Tony resets the device and places it inside a metal safe box and then sticks it in a safe under the floor. For now, that is where it will stay. When the world is ready for it, he will bring it to light. 

A crash in the other room catches his attention. He checks his watch. Seems a bit early for you to be home yet, though it is rather dark. On edge, he silently slips out of his room. There, standing in the middle of the apartment is another of those white-clad people that had attacked you and him here a month ago. Immediately, Tony ducks back into his room to assess the situation. He can take the one, of course he can, he's fucking Iron Man. But if they come in waves like last time, he might not make it. If only he had his suit right now! 

Before he can even attempt to make an escape plan, another of the hooded figures crashes through his window, knocking him to the ground. Throwing his elbow back, he makes contact with bone, but then it just dissipates. Pushing through the shock, Tony races through the apartment. More people attack him, and he throws each of them off with a kick to the kneecaps or a punch in the jugular.

But they keep coming. And coming. Before long, they pile on top of him. Sweat prickles all over, drenching him as he tries to fend them off. But there are too many. He does not give up. He wrestles them, and he struggles against them. Fights them as they hold his arms behind his back. 

But in the end, he loses. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh what's going to happen to Tony? What's with the new tech? And you and Peter are getting kinda steamy!
> 
> I totally forgot where I was going with this story for a minute. Like I was sitting there, stuck, writer's block. Until finally I realized the reason was because I totally forgot to mention the winter dance where a lot was going to happen. I'm so dumb sometimes. Anyways, hope this was sufficient! And the significance of an orange orchid? Learn the language of flowers and perhaps that will reveal some answers. 


	16. Silver-Belle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though you're a little worried about Tony, you still head to the winter dance and have fun, until you catch a glimpse of white...

You close the door behind you and sigh. For what seems forever, you rest your head there, eyes closed, smiling. After you and Peter had raced out, you'd gone on a real date. Sort of. Not really. You went out for coffee at seven in the evening and ended up running into Ned and Michelle. You're still not entirely sure they weren't just spying on you. You know Michelle could talk Ned into doing that. 

And now, at two in the morning, you've returned, the orchid wilting behind your ear, joy pulsing in your veins. It's dark in the apartment. Eerily quiet. Against your better judgement, you peek into your uncle's room. He's not there. He probably picked up and left to Bulgaria or something. You're sure he'll be back in time to send you off to the Silver-Belle like it's the prom. 

Exhaustion drowns out your joy from the night. Biting your lip, still smiling, you crash onto your bed, not caring to change clothes. The moment you're down, you're out like a light. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Bright lights awaken Tony. He gasps and sits up - only to a kneeling position. Breathing deeply, he takes in his surroundings. He's in a blindingly white room. Small. Empty, save for a long silver table atop which are trays of what he hopes aren't torture devices, though they likely are. 

Heavy metal manacles restrain his wrists behind him. They're connected to a rusting metal chain that's hooked around a ring bolted to the floor. The metal bites into his skin every time he shifts his stance. 

There's nothing more to reveal his location. He's alone. Only a terrible pounding in his head keeps him company. 

For what seems like hours, he kneels there, trying to find a way out of his chains. But without his tools he can't do anything. Oh God he can't do anything!

Finally, a door opens. In walks one person, dressed in white, face shrouded. 

"Hello Mr. Stark," she says, her voice surprisingly warm and honeyed. Tony rolls his shoulders back, and wills himself to look confident. He makes eye contact with his captor. She has strangely beautiful eyes. Not in a human sense. Something ethereal. Brown and alluring, he finds he can't look away. 

"Well hey," he finally responds, tearing his eyes away. "How's it going?" 

"Quiet," she muses. "I've been a bit bored. But I have a feeling that's about to change." 

"For you or for me?" 

She laughs. It's almost pleasant. No, it is. Which is almost more terrifying than if it wasn't. "Both, I suppose. But you're probably going to enjoy this much less than me." 

The woman selects a small metal rod from the table of torture instruments. At first glance, it's not very imposing. But she pulls the top and extends it to three feet. Electricity crackles around it. Tony swallows nervously. Whatever is about to happen, he can take it. He's had worse. 

Moving swiftly, as if she is walking on air, the woman approaches him. She kneels down, and gets so close Tony catches her scent. Sweet, woody. Foreign. Everything about her is so different. "I will give you a chance to tell me what I want to know, before we get messy." 

"Only if you tell me your name," Tony replies, his snark surfacing. "And perhaps a number?" 

"It's Kalia. And never in a thousand years." She almost seems to enjoy his question. Again, Tony finds himself believing he might actually enjoy her company under different circumstances. "Now, tell me, where have you hidden the device?" 

How the hell did she know? Jesus, these people, whoever they are, are fucking good. Tony just chuckles. "Up your ass." 

Kalia pulls off the white hood. Thick brown braids fall over her shoulder. And her face is beautiful. Angelic. Like her voice. "Very well. Let's begin." 

Before he can even think another thought, a burst of electricity courses through him. Tony cries out in pain and writhes. It seems to last forever, and yet is only a second. When it's over he pants and stares her in the eyes. Still, he says nothing. 

More pain. And more. 

And more. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
You thought Tony would be back by now. It's been a week. Tonight is the Silver-Belle dance, and you're a bit disappointed he's not going to be here to see you. And, quite frankly, worried. He hasn't responded to any of your texts or calls. Oh how the tables have turned. Now you're the overprotective concerned one. 

The feeling quickly dissipates. Wherever Tony is, whatever he's doing, he can handle himself. You, however, have shit to do. There's only a few hours until the dance. Not that it's particularly fancy, but when do you much get the chance to dress up? From your closet, you pull a completely unused dress. It's a bit old, but thankfully still fits, and it looks fantastic on you. With a black bodice lined with silver and a flowing white skirt, you're almost reminded of a yin and yang symbol. Like you and Peter. One half of a whole, neither able to exist without the other. 

Smoothing down your dress, you decide you look decent enough. Nothing much can be done about your hair, but you do what you can to make it presentable. Now, all you have to do is wait. 

You've barely sat down when a knock comes at your door. You smile and do a last minute check up. When you open the door, Peter is standing there, somehow more adorable in his suit. Thankfully, he is not carrying a large bouquet. Just a beautiful corsage made up of orange flowers. It hardly goes with your dress, but you appreciate it nonetheless. You throw your arms around him. 

"Hey Peter!" You mumble, nestling your face into his neck. 

"Y/N!" He responds, blushing madly. "You look, I mean you look! Wow!" 

You giggle. "You too. Shall we?" 

Peter extends his elbow and you hook yours through it. Together, you stroll out of the apartment and towards the school. It's a little strange taking public transport in fancy attire, but there are worse things, you suppose. 

Michelle and Ned greet you when finally you reach the front steps of the school. Both are dressed nicely, though Michelle's dress is rather bold for your taste. 

"Hey guys!" You wave enthusiastically. 

Michelle smiles and flips you off. You roll your eyes. "Sup lovebirds."

"Aw," you tease, nudging her, "someone's jealous." 

"Most certainly not."

The four of you hop up the steps and push through the doors. Music pumps loudly from the gym. Already, energy pulses in your veins. If it's even possible, your smile stretches wider. You haven't felt this excited for something in a long time. Your first American dance! Grabbing Peter's hand, you pull him into the mass of colors and dancing bodies. 

In time to the crazy beats, you dance around with your friends. Ned is particularly terrible but he's having even more fun than you. You link your arms and start a conga line. Though it doesn't match the music, half the students there join. Even Flash. Who seems to not have recovered from your rejection. But he's really not a terrible person. Just terribly obnoxious. 

The tempo slows. Now it's just you and Peter on the dance floor, amidst all the other couples. Swaying to the music, you find yourself resting your head on Peter's chest. His chin sits on the top of your head. Arms wrapped around each other, it is a perfect moment. Even Ned and Michelle are dancing together. You giggle at the sight. It's both sweet and terribly hilarious how uncomfortable and yet happy they look. 

White fabric catches your eye. Your heart skips a beat. 

It's just someone's dress, you console yourself. But there it is again. Streaking through the crowd. Disappearing every time you see it. Time slows. Though the music has picked up again, it seems to have faded away. All you can hear is the beating of your heart. Something isn't right. 

You turn back to Peter and plant a kiss on his lips. This is going to be a terrible idea. But you have to know just what the fuck these people want. "I'm sorry. I gotta go to the bathroom." 

He doesn't seem to believe you, but you don't have enough time. Before you lose them, you push through the dancing crowd. Following every trace of white, you end up out the back door of the school. 

Fresh night air cools your face. Sweat drips down to the collar of your dress. Breathing heavily, you look around. There is nothing. No one. Maybe you had just been imagining it. Maybe you're just paranoid. 

Just as you're shaking your head and turning back to enter the school, a figure drops to the ground. And then another, and another, until you're completely surrounded. Almost like they'd just fallen from the sky. 

"Yeah," you say, swallowing nervously, eyes flitting over each of the white clad individuals, "this was a fucking terrible idea."


	17. At Least It's Not Me This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're surrounded, but with Peter's help, you manage to escape. Or do you?

Something's not right. Peter's spidey sense is off the charts. And the way you just ran off like that? Admittedly it does seem like something you would do. Which probably means something bad is about to go down. Whatever it is you're about to do, there's no way in hell he's going to let you do it alone. Cautiously, he looks around. Barely, he catches a glimpse of you slipping out of the back door. 

Without any more hesitation, Peter races out of the gym and down the hall for his suit, carelessly tossing aside his tie and jacket in the process. Running faster than he ever has before, Peter races out of the school and throws on his Spiderman suit. 

"Hello Peter," Karen greets him. "You seem like you're in a hurry."

"Yeah something big's happening and I think Y/N is a part of it!" Peter explains, jumping onto the roof of the school. Quietly, he crawls over to the back and peeks over the edge. You're there. Surrounded by those men in white. 

"Yeah this was a fucking terrible idea," You're saying. Despite the situation, he chuckles a little. God he loves you so much. Which is why he can't let anything happen to you. 

"Karen, can you get a read on these people?" 

"No, sorry Peter. There's no record of any of them anywhere. But there is something odd about their DNA."

An image of a double helix pops up in front of Peter's eyes. But he doesn't have time to study it, or care what Karen has to say. Two of the men in white grab your arms and begin to drag you away. Immediately, he shoots out a web at one of them and yanks upwards. He goes flying across the street. Peter does the same with as many others that he can. 

From down below, he can see your lips moving in a blur. It's almost like you're putting up a force-field around you, just barely keeping the men at bay. It's so interesting, so alluring watching you work that Peter doesn't hear someone sneak up behind him. At the last second, his spidey senses kick in and he kicks backwards, sweeping the legs of his attacker. They fall off the roof, but don't hit the ground. Just disappear into thin air. 

"What the hell!" Peter exclaims. 

A hand clamps down on his shoulder. Quick to react, he grabs the hand of his attacker and webs it to the roof. He turns to see just as many men in white surrounding him as the ones attacking you. But he will not be overtaken. Peter shoots webs out at each of them and wraps them all together. For a moment, he thinks he has won.

Landscape shifts. Ground becomes sky. Roof becomes wall. Disorientation wracks Peter's mind and he stumbles, nearly falling off the roof. Someone grabs his arm and rips his hood off. They toss it into the wind and it flutters to the ground. 

"Ah, so you're the spider." It seems to be several voices talking at once. Awesome! But also terrifying. 

Shaking the dizziness from his brain, Peter struggles against his captor. Wildly, he shoots webs, some hitting but most of them missing the target. What's happening to him? Why does everything seem so unreal? He doesn't get much longer to try and fight back. Acrid scents waft between his nose. Before he realizes what it is he's breathing, everything goes dark. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright," you venture, raising your hands in front of you, "let's talk about this." 

You know Peter is up there, protecting you. He's already taken out a few. But there are still three left and you can't fight them off with your fists. So, you resort to the only thing you know has worked thus far; speaking. Thickening your voice once more, you begin to coerce your attackers into staying away from you. Not surprisingly, it works. But somehow, it is more powerful than before. Something tingles in your fingers, and you swear you can see something silver rippling in front of your hands. Like you've just spoken a force-field into existence. 

Despite the situation, you laugh. Partly in shock, partly because hell fucking yeah this is so cool! Poisonous confidence flow through you. You know, you know, you shouldn't let the power go to your head, but you can't help it. In your defense, who wouldn't react the same? 

Shaking your head, you bring yourself out of the clouds. You won't get carried away right now. 

"Stay away from me!" You shout, slowly backing towards the street. All of them stayed put, but were visibly fighting against your voice. And barely, just barely, able to take one single step. It's enough to make your confidence waver. In turn, your force-field drops and your voice falls flat.

Shit. Knowing you're out of luck, you turn and run. Thanking god and all things holy you didn't wear heels, you turn a corner, heading for your apartment. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles. You groan internally. Please do not let it rain right now! You hate slushy winter thunderstorms. And when you're running for your life, it would be great not to have that in your way. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder. There's no one. Not even Spiderman. Perhaps that's a good thing. But you're not about to let your guard down. 

Everything is quiet when you reach your apartment. Locking the door and all the windows, you cautiously look around. 

Finally, you pull out your phone and call Tony. You want him home. You don't feel safe. It rings. And rings. And rings. No answer. Shaking, you try again. Oh God. What if something happened to him? 

Frantically, you search around the apartment, looking for any indication of where he went or what happened. Just as you're about to give up hope, you notice one of the floorboards in his room is loose. 

Prying it free, you find yourself face to face with a locked safe. You groan. Why does your uncle have to be so goddamn secure about everything? 

"Can't you just open?" You plead after several attempts at a code (apparently it was not your or his birthday and that was about all you got). "Open!"

Surprisingly, it clicks and the door to the safe opens. Your eyes widen. Maybe you have more power than you thought. 

Inside is just a small black disk. Probably some sort of dangerous technology. Probably what all these people are after. 

Your phone rings. Relief floods over you. It must be Tony calling back. Everything's fine. But it's not Tony. It's Peter. Not that that's bad.

You sigh, happy to know he's okay. "Hey Peter! Sorry I bolted out. Where are you, are you okay?"

Nothing but static on the other line. Hesitantly you say his name again. Still, nothing. Your heart thuds. This isn't like him. Heavy breathing fills the silence of the other line. 

"Y/N?" 

It's his voice. Seems slurred. Terrified. Your voice shakes. "Peter? What's going on?" 

Another voice crackles through. Masked and heavily layered, you can't even discern the gender of the speaker. "You want to see your boyfriend alive, bring the device to the address we sent you." 

Your phone dings as instructions appear in your message box. Tears spring forth of their own accord and you close your eyes. Jesus Christ. Fucking hell. Pressing your phone to your forehead, you try to compose yourself. Still, your voice cracks. "Okay, okay. I will. Please, just don't hurt him. Don't hurt Peter." 

The line clicks off. Sparing no hesitation, you throw off your dress and pull on pants and a jacket, something much more adequate to rescue your boyfriend in. Slipping the device in your jacket pocket and zipping it closed, you race out the door. There's no time limit, but you still feel the need to get there fast. And since it's far outside of Queens, you know you're going to need to steal something. 

In the corner of your eye, you catch a lone motorcycle in the parking lot. Praying to your father's spirit for his guidance, you hop on it. Though you're worried as hell about Peter, you find yourself thankful it wasn't you this time that had been kidnapped. A terrible thought, sure, but reasonable. 

"Okay," you whisper, hoping this will work, "now, start." 

To your dismay, nothing happens. Maybe the thing with the safe was just a convenient coincidence. Tears are streaming down your face now. God what if they're already hurting him? What if he's - 

NO! You shake the impossible thought from your mind. 

You pound on the handles of the cycle. How strange is it that you don't know how to drive a car, but could ride this with ease? Your dad had a knack for raising you to be different. You find yourself thanking him infinitely. "START!" 

The engine revs and the motorcycle roars to life. You let out a cry of victory, but spare no more time to rejoice. There's nothing to be rejoicing yet. So you kick back the kickstand and race down the streets of Queens. You're coming for Peter. And whoever took him? 

They are going to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters. I don't know why.


	18. So the Fam's All Here...This is Fun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are going to save Peter. No one will stand in your way, except maybe your own fear.

Snow flutters around you as you turn the motorcycle off. Before you stands a run down two story building long since abandoned. Shards of glass litter the ground. Mold eats at the old wood. 

"Perfect place for a deranged gang lair," you mutter bitterly to the wind. It just whistles on by. Sticking your cold hands in your pockets, you cautiously enter the building. Shadows jump out at you from every corner. The floor creaks beneath your feet. 

"Alright," you say, keeping your voice level, mostly just talking to yourself, "I'm here. I'm fucking here assholes." 

A door to your left opens. Leading down into a dark abyss is a set of horrifying stairs. God, what is this, a horror movie? Against your better judgement, you traipse down the wooden steps. At the bottom of the landing is an elevator. That's it. Just a small room, only with a sleek silver elevator in the wall. 

"Jesus fuck this is weird." Oddly, this is comforting, talking to yourself. Hearing your voice. Almost like you know that it's going to be there to back you up. At the thought of that you shake your head. Of course it will be, it is you. And not sentient. Christ, you're going insane. "It's just the stress." 

You press the down button. Immediately and soundlessly, the doors glide open. You swallow nervously and enter. Without pressing any buttons, the elevator shoots downwards. Nausea twists your stomach around. You close your eyes and force bile down. When you open them again, the elevator is open and an ominous empty hallway waits before you. Heart beating fast enough to be a cause for concern, you walk down the corridor. Flickering fluorescent lights create an even more eerie ambiance than the silent solitude. 

At the end of the hallway, it splits into two. Down either it looks the same. The same pristine metal walls, the same horrible lights. But down the left you hear a scream. A familiar scream. Your stomach drops and you race down the hall. Following the shouts you skid to a stop in front of a door that you get a feeling leads to an interrogation room. You pull on the heavy metal door with all your might. Panting, you slip through the small crack into a blindingly bright room. 

In the center is a figure, bloody and beaten, curled into a ball. Your footsteps reverberate throughout the room as you slowly approach the man. 

"Hello?" You venture, your voice a whisper. "Are you okay?" 

A stupid question, really. Obviously they are far from okay. In fact, are they even breathing? You stare for a second. Yes. Barely.

They groan and slowly sit up. You freeze. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

"Back for more already?" A familiar voice taunts. "I thought I got a good headbutt in there to buy me an hour of peace at least." 

Shit! You hold back a sob. "Tony!" 

These people have kidnapped the two most important people in your life. Oh you're going to burn this place to the ground.  

Tony turns to face you, eyes wide in fear. Blood drips from his nose and mouth and stains his hair. His right eye is swollen. Bruises bloom over every visible inch of his skin. Jesus he looks terrible. But he's alive, at least. "Y/N! What are you doing here?!"

"Long story," you reply sliding to your knees and trying to pull Tony’s chains off. You're not sure why you thought just tugging would work. You're a bit frazzled. Finally you resort to your voice. This is something you were hoping Tony never found out about. But you command the manacles around his wrists to pop open anyway. 

"How did you do that?" 

You chuckle softly. "Another long story. C'mon we gotta go." 

Despite your uncle's protests, you lift his arm over your shoulders and help him to his feet. When you turn back to the door, there's someone waiting there. A beautiful woman dressed in white, her face exposed. 

"Going so soon?" She pouts. God she's pretty. You almost can't think in her presence. How can someone be so attractive? It's not fair. 

"Kalia," Tony growls. 

Even her name is pretty. You internally roll your eyes at yourself. You're taken. 

"And this must be your lovely niece Y/N." She smiles at you. 

"Glad we're all on a first name basis. Now that we've established that, where the hell is Peter." You grit your teeth and glare at her. 

Kalia twists her delicate finger through the end of one of her braids. "Snark must run in the blood, huh? A terrible misfortune, really." 

"Where the hell is Peter!" You shout, having enough of her bullshit. 

Unfazed by your outburst, she leans against the silver table at the edge of the room.  "He's perfectly fine. And he will remain that way so long as you give me the device." 

"I will. One question." 

Kalia nods. 

You're not sure why you care. Maybe you're just stalling to see if Tony can figure something out. "Why do you need it?"

"Why do you care?"

Alright, called your bluff. But you can act. "Why do I care? Because you hurt the people I care about for it!" 

She shrugs. "Fair enough. It will give us complete control over the technological world. We already control the material world. Once we have that device, we will ensure the survival of our species."

Okay, now you're intrigued. "Species? What are you?" 

"We call ourselves the White Pallax. A species of human very similar to homosapiens, but we are homoparallaxis. We feel things in ways you couldn't begin to understand. We are one with each other and the world around us...in a way. It's different for everyone," Kalia explains, as if that's supposed to make sense.

You're beginning to think these people are more than a little deranged. Probably all on DMT or some shit. And you've had enough of this woman. Trying to be as discreet as possible, you whisper into Tony’s ear that he has to stand on his own. Immediately, he rises to his full height as if he isn't injured at all. 

Hoping to catch Kalia off guard, you charge at her, knocking her over the table to the ground. She laughs as you wrestle her arms down, pinning her to the ground. 

"Shut up!" You grunt, annoyed with her demeanor. Immediately, her laughter silences though her mouth is still open. Something sparks in her eyes. Not fear like you'd expected. Something more like surprise or recognition. "Now  tell me where Peter is you bitch." 

Kalia splutters, as if trying to hold the information back. "Interro Room 12. Down the hall." 

Forgetting about everything else, you jump off of her and race towards the door. But just as you reach it, the walls shift and become the floor and you're stumbling, falling, all the way back to Kalia's feet. The world spins around you as you stagger back to your feet. 

"Whoa," you murmur, shaking your head, "what the hell just happened?" 

"Told you," Kali sighs, brushing herself off, "control over the material world. I can shift your perception of the earth. It's quite fun. Everything is normal, it just doesn't seem like it to you right now." 

"Leave her alone," Tony growls, curling his hands into fists. "If you hurt her, I will kill you." 

Kalia giggles. Still rather disoriented, you can't do much to fight back when she grabs you by the hair. Cold metal presses into your throat. "What, like this?" 

Hot stinging sensations rage across your skin. You know she's cut you. But somehow you don't really feel it. All you can think of is Peter. 

You close your eyes so all you see is darkness. The bitch can't manipulate that. You elbow backwards, making contact with her chest. With your hand, you reach up and grab hold of her wrist, twisting the knife from her hand. Before she can grab it again, you scoop it up from the ground. 

"Come after me and you will find yourself slitting your own throat." You whisper into her ear, your voice thicker than it has ever been, your words floating upon it like it is the river Lethe. Terror flows through your own veins. You guess love truly brings out the best and worst in people. 

Trusting in your powers, you press the weapon into the palm of her hand and race out of the room with Tony in tow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha things are getting really intense. Another species of human? Wonder where I got that from lmao. Kudos to you if you think you know. And your powers are getting more powerful as well.


	19. Too Hot for Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So close to escape, and yet so very very far.

7\. 8. 9. 

The numbers race in front of your eyes as you speed down the corridors, taking turns so sharp you almost run into corners several times. Tony lags far behind you, but you're too worried about Peter to care. Iron Man can take care of himself, even in this condition. 

10\. 11. 

At number 12, you skid to a stop, practically ramming into the door. Furiously, you pound on the door, hot tears leaking down your face. 

"Peter!" You shout. "Peter? It's me, it's Y/N! Can you hear me?" 

"Y/N?!" He responds from the other side of the door. "I can hear you, are you okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine! Okay, stand away from the door! I'm going to get you out of there." 

Silence follows. You can only assume he's followed your instructions. Mustering as much power as you can, you command the door to open. It just barely budges. But it's enough for you to slip through. 

Inside, the room is dark. Gray concrete floors and walls are a nice change from the blinding white everywhere else. Copper pipes stick out from the ceiling. It almost seems like it's a boiler room, rather than an interrogation room. In fact, it is rather warm in here...

"Hey." Peter smiles at you. He's standing in the corner of the room, still in his Spiderman suit. Sweat plasters his curls to his forehead. 

You race into his arms. "Oh God, I was so worried about you!" 

"I'm okay," he whispers, stroking your hair. You put a gentle hand on his face. It's warm. Hot. Too hot. Sweat drenches his skin. 

"Are you?" You reply. "Peter you're burning up." 

He nods slowly. "Now that you mention it, I do feel a little warm." 

You check his pulse and find that it's racing. And he's breathing abnormally. He's overheating. You wrap your arms around him. "Okay, we gotta get you outta here."

Peter stumbles a bit as you lead him towards the door. But it's closed. Fear explodes in your chest. You let go of Peter and he falls to the ground. You will your voice to open the door, but nothing happens. Again and again, nothing happens. 

"Sorry Stark," a voice crackles through speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling. "Won't work this time." 

"Okay, listen bitch!" You scream scanning the room for a security camera. There, hidden among the pipes is a blinking red light. "I have the device, open the door!" 

You reach into your pocket for the device - but it's not there. Frantically, you shrug your jacket off, turning it inside out, shaking it. Nothing! It must have fallen out somewhere. Hysteria eats at your mind. You can't die like this. You can't let Peter die like this!

Tears stream down your face as you kneel down next to Peter. His skin is almost burning to the touch. And he's losing consciousness. You hold him in your arms. 

"Peter," you plead, snot dripping over your lip, "you have to stay with me, okay? Stay awake." 

"Y/N..." he mumbles, staring up in you. There's almost nothing in his eyes. Just barely a spark of life. Oh God. He's slipping away. Oh God, oh God.

You take his hand in yours. Trying to keep it together, you kiss his knuckles and then bring his hand to your forehead. "Peter, I love you. This is not how this ends." 

"I love you too," he murmurs, his eyelids fluttering closed. 

You shake him. "Open your eyes." 

He doesn't respond. A sort of inhuman sob escapes your mouth. 

"Peter, please! You can't close your eyes!" Your tears drip onto his face. Still, he doesn't move. Terror claws at your chest. "Peter!" 

Then his chest stops rising. 

"Peter?" 

You pull his head into your chest, rocking back and forth, humming a song your father would sing when you were sick. Stroking his hair, you will him to stay alive. Just to hold on for a little bit longer so you can figure out what to do. Barely, his pulse beats. But so long as it's there you have hope. 

You bury your face into the top of his head. Why can't you protect him? Why did you finally get something good and have everything ripped from you? 

Anger builds as the bitter questions toil over in your mind. No. This is not the time for wallowing in self pity. You came here to rescue Peter and that exactly what you are going to do. Even if you have to die trying. 

Gently laying Peter down on the ground, you get to your feet, and stare directly into the camera. "Let us out or I will bring this entire place down." 

"I believe you," Kalia responds. "But can you do it before your dear Parker is gone forever?" 

That's it. Despite the nausea, the headache, the dizziness, the indescribably painful heat, you grit your teeth and glare. Sweat pours over you and your mouth goes dry, but you will not give up. 

You plant your feet on the ground and place your palms on the door. You have no idea what you're going to do, or if it will even work, but you have to at least attempt it. Last time, you made a force-field in a burst of pure fear and exhilaration. A defensive thing could also be offensive, right? You hope. Or you're going to die in here. 

Concentrating harder than you ever have before, you close your eyes and focus on the door shifting open. Energy pulses in your fingertips. 

Beneath your breath, you whisper, barely audible, "Open." 

Over and over. Power builds up from the very core of your being. You feel it pulsating around you. You open your eyes to find a sheen of purple energy shimmering in front of your hands. Even behind your eyes, you feel something tingling. A quick glance above you and in the reflection of the grimy pipes you see your eyes are glowing with a pale purple hue. 

Just seeing that, something sparks inside of you. A confidence so unfamiliar it scares you. And ignites you. 

You draw your arms back. One more time, you command the door to open. At the same time, your hands connect with the thick, heavy metal. For a brief second, time stops. 

An explosion rocks the building. Splinters of metal fly across the room. You turn and cover your head with your arms. When the dust settles, the door is completely gone. A rush of cool air swirls through the stifling room. You let out a cry of relief. 

Sparing no more hesitation, you rush over to Peter. With a burst of adrenaline, you lift him over your shoulders. 

"Alright Peter," you say, staggering under his weight, "time to burn this place down." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this is kind of one of my worst fears because I hate the heat and thrive in the winter. To die of heatstroke sounds like the worst way to go for me (other than drowning).


	20. Much Cooler in the Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On your way out of the facility, you see something that really screws with your head

Peeking out of the room, you find no one. Whether or not that's a good thing, you'll have to take your chances. Alarms blare, making your ears ring. Thankfully, they help to wake Peter. 

You try and remember the way you came, taking turns at random, counting numbers. At least you're headed in the general correct direction. 

9\. 8. 7. 

Feet slapping against the marble floor, you run faster than you ever have before. As fast as you can with a half conscious superhero on your shoulders. Softly, he groans. 

"It's okay Peter," you soothe through heaving breaths. "It's going to be okay."

Rounding another corner, you run straight into someone else. Weary and weak, you topple over. Still, despite your condition, you protectively throw yourself over the still stirring Peter. As it turns out, there's no need. It's just Tony. Bloody, breathless, Tony with malice in his eyes. For a moment, terror slices through you, chilling your bones. You've never seen him look like this before. But it passes. 

Tony offers you a hand and pulls you up. Shakily, you heave your boyfriend up. His eyes are open now, but never for long enough. You hope he can pull through just a little longer. You hope the heat exhaustion doesn't get to him. Or you. 

"We have to get out of here," he orders, shoving you forwards. 

You want to agree. Vehemently. But more than that you want revenge. It's a desire that flows through your veins like a chilling poison, consuming every thought and feeling you have. These people, these Pallaxians, they hurt your family. Threatened your happiness. All you want in this moment is for them to suffer. Peter would probably tell you that vengeance isn't a good look on you. The thought makes you smile. But not falter. Which is probably not good. 

"No," you counter, "we have to burn this place. Make sure they never hurt anyone again." 

Tony gives you that infamous knowing smirk. "Way ahead of you, kid." 

On cue, the building rumbles. Dust and debris shower you. You crack a wide smile. "Where'd you get explosives?" 

"I'm Tony Stark," he responds, as if that explains everything. You're willing to accept it. Mostly because you don't have the time for this conversation. 

He takes Peter into his arms and races on ahead of you. Fire rages in the corridor behind you. Smoke fills it from floor to ceiling, black and billowing. It stings your eyes, chokes you, burns your throat. Violently coughing, you slow down. The world spins around you. Is the smoke somehow muddling your mind? 

You shake your head. Push through. You have to survive to tell Peter you saved his ass. You have to live to hold one thing over his head instead of the other way around. Using the scorching hot walls as a guide, you move past a section of holding cells you don't recognize. Did you make a wrong turn somewhere? 

"Tony!" You croak out. Even you barely hear that. No way he did. Just keep going. 

There! Up ahead you see the undeniable silver glint of an elevator. Not the best idea to ride up while the establishment is exploding, but you have no other option. 

You pause to take a breath. The air is thick and searing. God explosions are so much cooler in the movies. The real version only cares to make environments inhabitable. 

You turn and look into the glass window you're leaning on. Inside the cell is a man, tall and strong, and yet frail and worn. He glances up and locks eyes with you. They are weary yet wise, holding knowledge and stories untold. They are your joy and your tears. They are something you've missed for ages. Something familiar. They are home. 

You choke back a sob. Tears stream down your face, immediately dried by the blistering heat. "Pápa?" 

His eyes widen in confirmation. You pound on the glass, but there is no way to get through. 

"Pápa!" You scream, clawing around the edges of the cell. Your father scrambles to the window. He shouts something but you can't hear what it is. There is only a ringing in your ears, only the pounding of your heart. Your father is alive, but you may have very well just sent him to his death. 

Beware! You can just barely make out the word he speaks before another explosion rocks the ground. Stone falls around you, hitting your head. Then there is nothing but darkness. 

And a painful longing in your chest. 


	21. Hallucinations? Or Just Dreams? Fuck It, Who Cares?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get an ominous message before waking to your worried friends in the hospital.

Gasping, you awake, shooting straight up. Everything around you seems hazy. Muffled. You rub your eyes. Where are you? What happened?

Memories hit you like a shock of ice water. The heat. Seeing your father. The rocks falling. And then nothing. You freeze. Are you dead? 

"No," a voice rings out behind you, "you are not dead. Only asleep." 

Startled, you spin around. Sitting on a patch of grass is someone whose face sends a jolt of red hot anger through your veins. Her stupid beautiful face. A guttural growl escapes your throat. "Kalia." 

Kalia rolls her gold flecked eyes. "Yeah yeah. You hate me, whatever. I saved your life. Thank me later." 

You furrow your eyebrows. "I - what?" 

"I couldn't let one of my own perish even if they threatened everyone I love." Kalia flicked a piece of grass from under her fingernail to the rich soiled ground. "There are so little of us left." 

For once, you stay silent. Processing. None of this is real. It can't be.  

"It's very real, Y/N, though neither of us are actually here. It's just a way to talk." She glances up and locks eyes with you. "Or send a message."

Vaguely, you remember those horrible dreams you had before Tony had gone missing, before the dance, before you'd blown an entire building to pieces. "You sent me those images. Were you threatening me or warning me?" 

Kalia shrugs. "A little of both. We are not the bad guys, Y/N. I want you to understand that. There is something much bigger coming. For Peter." 

You nearly puke. Not him. Not again. Why does it always have to be him? "What are you talking about?" 

The horizon begins to fade into a gray-scale. Kalia sighs. "We are running out of time." 

Wildly, you look around. Everything is rapidly collapsing in on itself. Panic grips at your lungs, entraps your heart, though you don't know why. None of this can possibly be happening. But somehow, you know it is true. "What's going on? What's coming?" 

"Something much worse than your darkest nightmares." Fear laces her voice, enough so that a lump forms in your throat. 

"Could you be less cryptic?" 

Kalia only smiles, concern filling her eyes, calling for help, asking you to be everyone's hope. It is all you see before she melts into the ground and you fall in on yourself. 

Once more, you sit bolt upright. This time, it is reality, not some sort of realistic dream or hallucination. You're here for real. You can feel the thin scratchy sheets beneath your palms, hear the beeping of a machine. A terrible pounding fills your head and your stomach is doing cartwheels. Something is sticking out of your nose. Feebly, you touch it. Tubes. And there's an IV in your arm. 

You're in a hospital. 

Slowly, you sit up. On the table next to the hospital bed is a vase with a bouquet of wilting flowers. Orange orchids. You smile and bite your lip. Must be from Peter. There's a card next to it. Stretching your fingers, you just barely manage to grip it. 

It's been two weeks. Wake the hell up. How dare you leave me with these two losers. Love, Michelle.

You chuckle. Sounds just like her. Sympathetic, and yet definitely not. You miss her so much. And Ned. And Peter. Everyone. Gently, you set the note back down. Looking around, there isn't much more to the room. It's plain and boring. God, who can you call to get some excitement? Not that that would be the best for you right now, considering your state. 

Thankfully, the universe spares you much longer dwelling over boredom. The door to your room flies open and a very disheveled Peter enters the room, holding a cup of coffee. Since when does he drink coffee?

"Y/N?" He squeaks, nearly dropping the to-go cup. Which would have been a disaster. 

"Hey Peter." You smile. Your voice is a bit hoarse. 

Joy dazzles in his warm eyes. He sets the coffee down and throws himself over you, enveloping you in the best, most comforting hug you've ever felt. You try to hold back your tears, but you're just so happy that you've survived. That he's here, that everyone's okay. 

When he pulls away, you find that his eyes are also red and puffy. It looks like he hasn't slept in forever. And that odor...

You scrunch you nose. "You look and smell terrible. What have you been doing? Rolling around in horse dung?" 

Peter smiles wearily. "Yeah exactly. That, and worrying about you." 

"I hope you haven't been missing school for me. I'd hate for your GPA to suffer," you tease, trying to lighten the mood. You know you almost died. You don't want to be reminded of it. 

"It's been school and then straight here to watch over you every day," he admits, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. "Ned and Michelle have stopped by. Tony's kept himself busy. He can't bear to think about you right now." 

You frown. "Maybe I should call him."

"I'm sure he sensed a disturbance in the force and is on his way right now." 

You grin and laugh. "Isn't that your thing?" 

Silence falls over the room. Slowly, you swing your legs off the side of the bed. It hurts like hell. Not hot, stinging pain like you expect. Just a dull aching pain in your limbs. Peter takes a place on the rickety bed next to you. It creaks and you fear it might collapse under the weight of both of you. Shouldn't hospital beds be more secure?

You lean into Peter. He wraps his arm around your shoulders. For a while, you just sit there, nestled in his hug, him stroking your hair. 

"So," he says, interrupting the warm, peaceful atmosphere. "You missed Christmas. I mean, I dunno if you celebrate it, but I got you something anyway."

From his pocket, he pulls out a sloppily wrapped box. Carefully, you tear open the wrapping paper and lift the top off the box. Inside is a silver spider pendant dangling from a silver chain. You smile. 

"Bit obvious, isn't it?" You tease, handing it to him to hook it around your neck. 

His fingers brush your skin as he latches it. Tingling sensations trail down your spine. You bite your lip. "Ah, it's just a symbol. No one's really going to know you're important to Spiderman, are they?" 

"So you hope." You turn and hug him tight. "Thank you, Peter. It's wonderful. I love it. And you." 

Peter kisses you on the top of your head. "I love you too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the end yet, don't worry!! So I've decided to do a sequel. Not sure when I'll put it up but I already have a lot planned out, and the villain is going to be an actual Spiderman villain from the comics, though with my own spin. Care to guess who?


	22. New Years!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New years celebration with your favorite people and...a little something more.

Torrents of snow blur the world outside your window into hues of gray and white. Frost crawls up the glass, beautiful designs carved from the cold. You trace one of them with your fingernail, taking in the quiet frozen world of the blizzard. You turn around, pulling away from the muffled quiet into the warm, welcoming atmosphere of your apartment. 

Lights are strung up all across the room, flickering in silvers and golds, and the occasional primary color. Garland hung intermittent with the lights. Some homemade paper snowflakes are attached to the ceiling, fluttering softly as warm gusts of air from the heater blow throughout the room. Ned stands on a precarious ladder of chairs to hang his own, which is rather good. Peter and Michelle steady him, though Michelle only halfheartedly. She seems very invested in her book about ancient Egypt. 

You stand and stretch your stiff limbs. You'd been released from the hospital only a few days ago. Most of the burns had healed, but some around your shoulder and your fingers had scarred. They almost make the same intricate designs that are frosted over your window. 

You trot over to the kitchen to pull the screaming kettle off the stove. Pulling five mugs from the cupboard, you mix hot chocolate into each of them. 

"Who wants whipped cream?" You call out.  

"Me!" Your friends all respond in unison, Peter shooting a hand up so fast, the chairs wobble. Ned nearly falls to the ground and your heart skips a beat. But you just laugh. 

Mugs filled to the brim, you pass them out to your jovial friends. Tony joins the mix, a smile on his face, but something behind it. Probably something the Avengers are dealing with. 

You turn the TV on, keeping the volume low. It's Times Square filled with drunk and happy people. It's only eleven thirty, so you still have a half hour until the ball drop. Tony sets out a pan of cheesy bean dip and a bowl of chips. He smiles at you and you grin back, biting into the crunchy chips. Since the hospital, you've spent nearly every waking moment with your uncle. At first it was sweet, then it got annoying, and then you got over it. Now you're back to normal. Mostly.

Peter flops onto the couch next to you. Your hot chocolate sloshes a bit as you sip it, dripping over your chin. Teasingly, you glare at him. He smiles and puts his arm around you. With a gentle finger, he brushes some stray hairs out of your eyes. Taking a curious gulp from your mug, you glance up at him. There's something different in his eyes. Nothing bad. Just different. They seem so full. Like you're only just now seeing the true color of his eyes. 

"What?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?" 

"I have a surprise for you in the bedroom," he whispers. 

Heat rises in your face. You nearly drop the mug. "Peter, what?" 

Peter just offers you a cheeky smile and darts into your room. For a moment, you just sit there, contemplating. If what you think is going to happen is going to happen then Tony will end the both of you. You glance around the room, and your gaze meets Michelle's. She gives you an exasperated look before nodding towards your door. When you stand, she smirks. Again, your face flushes.  

Quietly you slip into your room and close the door. You turn around and the scene before you takes your breath away. Candles line the windowsill and the floor, giving the room a dim rosy glow. Orchid petals are scattered across the bed. Across the ceiling in spiderweb are the words _I love you._  

Struck still with shock, Peter is the one that comes to you. He takes your hand in his and presses his forehead against yours. 

"Peter..." you manage, blinking away tears. No one has ever done anything this adorable for you.

"I have to tell you something." 

"You're not going to propose, are you?" 

Softly, he chuckles. "Nah, not today." 

You smile and peck him on the lips. "What is it?"

"Remember when we first met?" He inquires, rubbing his thumb over your hand in small, gentle circles. 

"Yeah," you recall, smiling, "you stepped in front of Flash to allow me to escape Spanish class." 

"That day was probably the best day of my life. Because I met you." Peter runs his fingers through your hair. "Y/N, you are the smartest, kindest, snarkiest, occasionally reckless to the point of giving me heartache -" 

You laugh, your vision blurred by tears. 

"- most beautiful person I've ever met. And I love you beyond the meaning of love. You are the meaning of love." Tears glisten in his eyes, giving them a luminous golden glow unlike anything you've ever seen before. 

Silence falls over you as you take a moment to catch your breath. Then you immediately start unbuttoning his flannel. 

Innocently, he tilts his head. "What are you doing?" 

You kiss him passionately, and shrug off his shirt. "That was so hot. Nothing has turned me on more than that." 

He stumbles a bit as you press him up against the wall. Flames sputter out as you kick some candles around with your foot. You shrug off your shirt between kisses. Pleasure thrills in your veins and your body heats up by some deep longing. Peter falls into it, tangling his fingers through your hair, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbone. You jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you tight, smiling and laughing between passionate kissing. 

You hum in excitement as he trails one hand up your leg. Slowly, he walks towards the bed, not relenting with his lips, locking his tongue with yours. He falls backwards onto the mattress, and you straddle him, hungrily running your hands over every bare inch of his skin. Passion and heat builds between the two of you, and you are ready for this to happen. 

"Ahem." 

You nearly jump out of your skin. Panting, you turn over your shoulder and find Michelle standing in the doorway. Amusement glints in her dark eyes. Your face grows hotter than you thought possible. "Michelle!" 

"Parker's a bottom," she remarks, staring at the two of you, completely unfazed by your compromising position. "Can't say I'm surprised. Anyways, the countdown's about to start." 

Blushing madly, you hop off of Peter. For a moment the two of you just sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the ground. Slowly, the pleasurable buzzing fades. 

"Maybe later," you finally say. "Definitely later. But let's go have some other kinda fun for now." 

You shrug your clothes back on and walk out into the decorative living room, hand in hand. Together, you snuggle up on the couch, you leaning into his side hug. Tony sits down on a comfy chair near you. He raises an eyebrow and you give him a look, shutting him down. Your uncle smirks and turns his attention to the TV. 

Ned plops down next to you. Having spent so little time with him lately, you immediately turn and hug him. "I've missed you, ya know." 

He returns the hug. "And I you. And I definitely know about that one time you put on the Spiderman suit." 

Your jaw drops. "Wait, you know, like the secret?" 

Ned scoffs teasingly. "Duh. Peter told me ages ago." 

In the corner of your eye you catch Peter mouthing the word "told" and putting air quotes around it. You giggle. 

"Well awesome!" You whisper, trying to keep Michelle from hearing. Though she probably knows more about Spiderman's adventures than you do. "You could be like the sidekick. You know technical stuff. Guy in the chair sorta thing." 

Ned gives you finger guns. "Done that! It was this whole thing last year before you came. A villain named Vulture and all that." 

You beam. "Well even better! Now you have experience. I look forward to working with you in the future." 

Jokingly, you guys shake hands. You return to your snuggly position with Peter. On the TV, they begin to countdown, as the silver ball finally drops.

 **Ten!**  

You squeeze Peter's hand. 

**Nine!**

You smile at Tony with whipped cream from his hot chocolate all over his face. 

 **Eight!**  

An image of your father's face flashes across your mind. 

 **Seven!**  

Your heart pounds. Something feels off. 

 **Six!**  

_Y/N!_

That voice, it's familiar. Painfully familiar. 

**Five!**

Wildly, you glance around, searching for the source of that voice. No one else seems to notice. 

**Four!**

_Y/N, I'm alive! I'm alive! Please, help me._  

**Three!**

_Pápa?_

It can't be. Your father is dead. You watched him die. In that fire. 

**Two!**

You shake the thoughts away. Now is not the time to worry about any of this. Tony and your friends are all that matter. You glance up at your boyfriend, and find him smiling down at you. 

**One!**

"Happy new year!" 

Ned enthusiastically pops party poppers and colorful confetti explodes in the air. Michelle smiles and pops one of her own. You and Peter stare lovingly into each other's eyes. You never would have thought you could find someone so adorable, so caring, so selfless to love. And you count yourself as the luckiest person in the world. 

Smiling brilliantly, you plant a kiss on his lips and rest your forehead against his. After everything you've been through, you deserve some peace, some happiness. And this? This is it. This is going to be the year that you finally get what you deserve. 

Softly, he whispers to you, "Happy new year." 

He plants a kiss on your forehead. You blink away a tear of joy and nestle your head on his shoulder. 

"Yeah, Peter. Happy new year." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright kids, that's it!! I have loved writing this story soooo much and have loved hearing how much all of you love it!! It was a lot of fun to write and I thought it was pretty cute, but I'm also biased. Anyways, I'm glad all of you came on this ride with me, and I will see you all in the sequel!  
> 
> Lots of love to all of you! 
> 
> Aaaand I'm out! 


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